FireDancers: Embers' Dawn
by Snowprincess Kittykolorz
Summary: Shika, a ordinary girl, is involved in a car crash. A mysterious voice pulls her out of the dark, and she awakes in Middle-earth. But she is not as ordinary as she once thought. Embers are beginning to glow inside her, and will take her inside a reality she never knew could exist, much less inside herself. She's just a girl but she's on fire. (THIS IS NOT CLICHE.)
1. Prologue: Naur

Prologue: Naur (Fire)

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"_She's just a girl but she's on fire…"_

_-Alicia Keys, "Girl on Fire"_

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"Worlds have changed. I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost in the memories of those who have not remembered it. It began when two souls met in a special bond when it was not anticipated at all. No one thought they were meant for each other. No one predicted that their child would form the course of everything.

"In time, records became history. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for merely a decade and a half, a small piece in a shadowy game of malice passed out of all knowledge. And in this twist of fate, the time will soon come when this piece in the game will shape the fortunes of all."

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**Well, here it is! The first edited part of FireDancers: Embers' Dawn! Please tell me it's good... I can't edit it any more! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW  
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**Thanks for reading! 3**


	2. 1: Morn'e

Chapter One: Morn'e (Blackout)

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My thoughts are never where I need them to be. The dull black and white clock on the wall, which seems to click only once every three minutes, is constantly within my gaze. The bitter truth of time never passing quickly when you want it to sinks into my mind like water to a sponge. In the periods when I'm not looking at the dreary little clock, I twiddle my thumbs in my lap, faster and faster, then one thumb mindlessly grazes the other and I start over with a silent snort of annoyance. The clock is once again in my vision. 3:27. Once more I look at it. Same time. I pause my secondly ritual at last and try and listen to the teacher, making myself seem like I'm listening by chewing on what's left of my pencil's eraser. Thankfully, the teacher doesn't notice that I'm barely paying attention. Looking at the clock again. 3:29. Any moment now.

...Four, three, two, one!

The bell rings loudly in my ears, which stings a bit but is rather reassuring. It's a lovely sound, as a matter of fact, when you are anxious to get out of school. It's not that I don't like it or anything, but I'm not exactly crazy about it. My mom says that I'm smart, but that I just don't "apply" myself. But currently, I can get by, and I do try to learn.

As soon as the sweet sound of the bell reaches my ears, my hand zips for my backpack like lightning, and I dart out of the classroom without even a wave goodbye to the teacher much less the classmates. In a matter of moments I am outside in the late September breeze, jogging along the sidewalk to my dad's silver car by the curb. He smiles at me as I plunk my book-filled backpack on the car seat next to me and click my seatbelt into place. It's like this, exactly like this in fact, every single day after school.

My name is Shika Blackdale. I live in the Bronx of New York City, and I'm fifteen and a half years old. I've always lived here... All right, I admit, I haven't always lived here. I was adopted as a baby, as my parents have told me so many times. Even though I am not their biological daughter, they love me as if I am, and I'm glad of that. They have dark brown hair and brown eyes while I have light brown hair and blue eyes. For some peculiar reason, I have a small memory of my true parents in the back of my mind like a distant dream. Actually, it is a memory of my mother. Newborns aren't supposed to have memories, right? That's funny, because I know that this memory isn't a fake.

In this little memory, it was rather dark in the background, but there was pale golden light, which glowed in several places, as if it was candlelight. A woman was lying on a lacy linen bed, dressed in a long dress of similar material. She was quite young and very beautiful, but she seemed... sad. As if someone had just broken her heart. Her expression, which was utterly cheerless, was distant and confused, as if she was dying. Maybe she was. But I remember nothing after that.

I don't know why I remember this, or how it got into my memory, but I often wonder if that really was my real mother. Perhaps it was, but I look nothing like her, in truth. It was most likely an old dream I had years ago that still lingers in my memory with so many others I can't remember.

I shake my head violently as I settle myself in the car seat, flicking away the thought like an autumn leaf on my shoulder, and I begin to daydream about what I'll do when I get home. I guess I'll change out of my school uniform shirt, gray skinny jeans, and pink converse shoes into my pink tank top and mini shorts. Maybe I'll whip up some microwave popcorn and turn the TV on to my favorite show while my cat, Sugarplum, curls up on my lap. I guess I'll do my homework sometime later.

As my dad's car silently slides along the road, I see a big white van suddenly swerve uncontrollably in front of us. My body tenses in sudden shock, and my heartbeat instantly speeds up. The van hits another car beside it, which sends tiny glass shards dispersing through the air. My eyes widen as my dad tries to turn sharply onto another road, but he's not in time.

The van crashes right into us.

I squeeze my eyes shut and scream out the fires of hell itself.

Because... that's what I feel. Only fire.

Then nothing but darkness. Night. Obscurity. That's all I see. I feel nothing. I don't feel cold, warm, sick, healthy, in pain, relaxed, not even tired or wide awake. It's almost as if I'm unconscious of anything at all... as if I'm asleep... as if I'm... dead?

No, no way. I can't be dead, it's impossible. If I was, I wouldn't be thinking. No, I couldn't be thinking at all. So why is it... so dark?

I look around but see nothing. There's nothing to get me out of here. Nothing to save me from the darkness of eternal night. If I had the ability, I would begin to cry. I'm helpless and completely alone in this place of emptiness.

Wait... what's that light? A light? Yes, there's most definitely a light. A tiny, hopeful ray of colorless glow. My hand, if I still have one, reaches for the light expectantly, and the ray seems to grow, and fast. Soon my entire body, if I still have it, is enveloped by the white, glowing light. It is then, when the brightness is all I can see, that I hear a voice.

"Do you want to wake up?" it says in a voice as smooth as the inside of a clam's shell and as soft as a rabbit's fur. Such a beautiful voice.

_Yes I want to wake up._

"Then awaken, and remember this voice, Shika."

My eyes open.

And then I would awaken, and the universe would never be the same.

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**Well, there you have it. My first chapter! My writing has definitely improved, so please let me know what you think. I would love to hear from you! 3  
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	3. 2: I' Bragol

Chapter Two: I' Bragol (The Sudden)

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I find myself lying on a bed of soft, warm grass. My eyes are open, but I'm temporarily blinded because of the vivid, golden sunlight. It seems to be late morning, or perhaps sometime around that. The distinct memory of the clock in the schoolroom, reading 3:27 p.m., sparks up my memory to remind me what time it is. Within a few moments, my eyes adapt to the light, and I can see the place around me. All I see is a beautiful forest with massive trees, drooping branches, and tops that seem to reach to the sky. How can I be here? And where exactly is this? I don't remember being thrown from my dad's car. Perhaps I was knocked unconscious before I was thrown. I may have landed in the park, but I don't remember passing the park. I don't know what's happened!

I sit up on the bed of grass, tightly hug my knees, and marvel at all the incredible beauty around me. This has got to be the most stunning place I have ever been in, even if it's a place I can't get out of, or will ever find again. By the time the sun has reached the top of the sky, I realize that my head hurts. Throbbing, in fact. But I refuse to sleep, not while I'm lost in a place I've never seen. I stand up to try and find civilization somewhere, which might not take long, considering how I'm hopefully only in the park, and familiar buildings of New York City will be close by.

After at least an hour or two of walking through the forest, I find nothing but more trees and a distinct dirt path. Maybe I accidentally went back in time to maybe three or four hundred years ago and this was what the Bronx looked like back then. Well, at least the path I found might lead me somewhere where I can get help... and back home.

I walk along the path for even longer than I was when walking in the wilderness. Much to my disappointment, I find nothing but more woods. I begin to get awfully discouraged as I sit myself down on a large tree root and cover my face with my hands in despair. The sun is already beginning to go down, and not only do I have nowhere to go, but I have no shelter for the night. How will I survive for even one night alone in a forest? I've never even been camping, let alone by myself. What am I going to do?

Without another thought of what I cannot do, I begin to cry. The only thing I can do now is cry until I have no more tears to cry. I'm helpless here. I can't do anything.

I stop myself suddenly after a moment. Come on, girl, you're fifteen years old. You shouldn't be crying! Ultimately, I sniff loudly and wipe the tears away from my eyes on my sleeve.

I suddenly wish that Sugarplum was with me. Sugarplum is my kitty back home. When she's around around, she always knows when I am having a rotten day; she purrs and snuggles up against me as if to say that it will get better. If she were here, I know she'd do that. I feel even more lonely without little Sugarplum. The thoughts of her, running through my mind like rivers of tears, make me cry all over again. After only a moment of letting out my sobs and my tears, I harshly force myself to stop.

Well, if I can't go home, I might as well go through the stuff I've got. School shirt, gray skinny jeans, converse shoes. I have my underclothes too, and my rainbow striped knee-high socks, but that's it. I've got nothing in my pockets except an old piece of gum with the foil wrapper still on. Shrugging, I pop the gum into my mouth, only to spit it out onto the ground to find out that it's cinnamon gum. Yuck. It's my least favorite flavor.

The late afternoon sun begins to cast its warm spell on me, and my eyelids begin to get heavy. But I refuse to go to sleep; there might be carnivores out there that could attack me at any moment. And someone might find me and think me dead, but only because I sleep so soundly and barely moving at all.

As if the world heard my thoughts, I hear a sharp crunch behind me, and then scurrying of feet. I knew it... a carnivore. What do I do now?...

I stand up, extremely careful not make a sound. My heart begins to race. If the animal behind me is dangerous, then I'll run. I have no idea where to, but I'm going to run. And I'll run fast.

Another snap, this time closer than the last.

Get ready to run. My heart races ever faster.

Out of curiosity, I turn around, my heart ready to burst out of my chest, and I look at the source of the snaps.

Two... tiny.. people?

I shriek in sudden alarm, ducking behind a nearby tree that isn't wide enough to hide me; only a few inches across. At the same moment that I do so, the two little people cry out in surprise and duck behind another tree, which is actually big enough for the both of them. Who on earth were they? The longer I stay here, the more peculiar this place gets.

I take a peek to the little people, cautious not to be seen. One of them peeks back at me with wide, deep blue eyes. It then ducks back down. I press my back against the tree, mopping the sweat away from my forehead. Why are they afraid of me? Do I really look that scary? Well, they're one to talk. They nearly freaked me out of my very sanity!

"Frodo, what do you think 'at was?" one of the little people asks the other in a small, shaking voice. I don't look back at them. My heart is still racing, just not as fast as before.

"I don't know, Sam..." the other whispers. I think this one is the one that peeked at me a couple seconds ago. I realize that both voices are male voices. "I think it might be a she," the little person continues to his companion. "It's a girl. A human girl."

The other snorts in disbelief. "A human girl?" he echoes. "In the middle of the Hobbiton Forest?"

I decide with myself with a snort that I've had enough of this nonsense. Forcing my heart to calm down, I cautiously walk back out from the makeshift concealment of the tree. I'm trembling ever so slightly and my heart continues to beat at lightning speed, but I stand in front of them without fear. They couldn't hurt me. Come to think of it, I'm twice as tall as them!

"Hey, come on out," I call quietly and calmly. "I'm not gonna hurt you." I hear the two of them curl up tighter in fear, but I take a step closer and call out again. "Come on, I-I'm not who you think I am. You don't have to be scared of me."

Finally, the two little people nervously creep out of their hiding place, trembling as they do so. It is then that I notice that their feet are actually big and hairy, not to mention that their ears are pointed. They're also carrying overstuffed knapsacks on their backs. And they're dressed like I really have gone back in time, but not four hundred years ago. More like a thousand. Where in the world am I? And what gives, anyway?

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**I love this chapter. It's very close to me! Please let me know what you think of the story thus far!**


	4. 3: I' Winya Rakta

Chapter Three: I' Winya Rakta (The New Arrival)

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The wind moans sadly, forlornly, in keen anticipation. The calm before the storm, as a few wise and rare individuals would say. at this moment in time. The gray, dreary mist in the air curls slowly, as if it is blown in hazy swirls by the hushed beating of a hummingbird's wings. The wind moans yet again in even higher anticipation grazed with silent hysteria. There is nothing in the mist or on the ground except for a lone blue beetle, which is suddenly trampled to its death by the hooves of nine black, demonic horses, driven by dark, cloaked riders. The wind moans anxiously louder. And louder still.

The riders, all nine of them, stop abruptly at a patch of dew-covered grass that has been pushed down, as if a being was sitting or lying there for a certain amount of time; minutes, hours, perhaps days. Three of the dark riders dismount and slide soundlessly over to the place. One kneels down and touches the little spot.

The rider hisses out three single words. "She was heeeere..."

The other eight riders screech, howl, and hiss at the same moment in triumph, apprehension, and anticipation for the newest arrival to this world. They mount their demonic horses, still making their horrid sound, and ride off into the gray mist, making them disappear in but a moment.

The wind moans again in sadness and pity for a young and mystified girl, the newest arrival to this world, who will change the fate of this world forevermore.

Never will either world, this world or her world, be the same again.

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**Thanks for reading! I know it's short, but I promise the story will get better. Please review! 3**


	5. 4: I' Lema

Chapter Four: I' Lema (The Journey)

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Merely a few minutes ago, I met two little people. Or, as I now know, hobbits, as they are called here. One of the two has curly, chocolaty brown hair and deep blue eyes, and his name is Frodo Baggins. I have to say, he has the most adorable and innocent smile I have ever seen, but not cute enough to make me blush. Only enough to make me return the smile. The other hobbit has dirty blonde hair and is a little plump, but he's as loyal as a regular dog. He's Samwise Gamgee, or just Sam, as his friends call him. They don't seem to be dangerous to me and only want to know more about me. Such curious creatures. At this rate, I can be home in time for bedtime, or supper if I'm lucky.

"So you just... woke up here as if you were only dreaming?" Frodo asks me inquisitively. I nod.

"Well, not exactly. Somehow I was transported here from my home. I haven't the slightest idea how I got here or how to get back home. Where exactly am I, anyways?"

There is an awkward pause for a moment. Frodo and Sam glance at each other, evidently amused, then they immediately burst into muffled laughs. I manage to strain an amused grin onto my face but I don't know why.

"What's so funny?" I ask, knowing that I probably sound really stupid.

"You don't know where you are?" Sam asks between laughs. "Why, you're in Middle-earth!"

Middle-earth?

Where's that? Asia? No, I would've learned it by now in Geography. Greenland? No way. What about Antarctica? Heck, no. There's way too much ice for an old forest to grow there. All right, all right, pull yourself together, girl. Now I know that I'm in Middle-earth, but I probably won't be able to find that on a map of planet Earth.

Wait... maybe I'm in...

...another world?

I sigh despairingly and cover my face with my hands as Frodo and Sam finally stop laughing. "Great. Just great," I say half-angrily. A lump suddenly begins to form in my throat and I can't swallow it down. "I'm in another world. Just marvelous! How the hell am I gonna get home now?" By now I'm nearly shouting in despair. I drop to my knees and begin to cry again. There's no way I'll be able to get home now...

I hear one of the hobbits walk towards me and place a tiny, tender hand on my shoulder. When he speaks, I know it's Frodo.

"We can help you get home, Miss Shika."

I sniff and look at him wistfully. "How?" I ask him.

"Come along with us," he replies with a sweet smile. "We are on our way to Bree to meet Gandalf the Grey. He is a powerful wizard and a dear friend of my uncle's as well as my own. He may be able to return you to your home."

I sniff again, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. "Okay. I'll go with you." Frodo smiles again.

It's a long journey to the village called Bree, but we'll be there before long if we walk quickly and don't delay. I thoroughly understand, but at the moment, I only want to go home. I'm getting homesick already. Right now, Frodo, Sam, and I walk quietly along a dirt path that cuts straight through a large cornfield. A third of the way through, I start to get worried about my skin getting all itchy and uncomfortable if I touch the corn leaves. I'm allergic to the stuff, honestly.

When we're somewhere around the center of the field, Sam stops suddenly in his place, staring reflectively at the ground. Both Frodo and I turn to look at him curiously. Sam looks around.

"This is it," he says sadly.

"This is what?" Frodo and I ask simultaneously.

"If I take one more step it'll be the farthest away from home I've ever been."

Frodo smiles warmly and places a hand on Sam's shoulder reassuringly. "Come on, Sam."

I turn and smile as Sam takes a courageous step forward, and I know that he'll be okay. I can relate to him; being very far away from home, but Sam has a better chance of going back. I don't. I'm in another freaking world; my chances of going home aren't very high.

We're still walking through the field, and we're pretty close to the other side, but it is around then I hear something running at a high speed through the cornstalks. I stop and listen to it intently. The sound is gone for a moment. All of a sudden, something bursts out of the cornstalks and knocks me over, causing me to land on my back. I squeal in surprise.

"Lady Shika!" Frodo cries out, but he silences himself at the next moment when I see who my assailant is.

Well, how about that. It's another little person -er, hobbit I mean-, who has reddish-brown hair, a fuzzy gray scarf, a bunch of vegetables in his arms, and a goofy, embarrassed grin on his face.

"Oops! Sorry, miss!" he chuckles with a strong Scottish accent. What's with the European accents in these stories? I stare awkwardly at the hobbit until he leaps off my stomach and I can get to my feet. There's another hobbit nearby as well; one that has dark brown eyes with contrasting blonde hair, but he's also got a bunch of vegetables in his arms as well. Regular pranksters, I guess.

"Why, Frodo Baggins," the dark-eyed blonde says comically, "what in blazes are you doing with an oddly dressed human girl and your gardener with overstuffed packs on your backs? And why are you in this cornfield?"

Frodo scoffs.

"Well, why are _you_ in this cornfield, Meriadoc Brandybuck?" Frodo asks sarcastically with an amused grin. I roll my eyes, but then they widen in surprise when I see the top of a pitchfork about ten meters into the field, away from the side we were walking to a minute ago. Someone who is holding the pitchfork is angrily shouting, probably at these two new hobbits, and is running through the field right towards us.

"Pippin," Sam suddenly hisses, clearly annoyed, "you and Merry have been in Farmer Maggot's garden, haven't you?" The hobbit with the fuzzy gray scarf and the Scottish accent, Pippin I think, just shrugs his shoulders and shoves a cabbage into Sam's arms.

"Details aren't important, Sam!" he says happily. With that, we begin to run.

"I don't know what he's so worked up about," says Merry. "We only took a couple of carrots."

"And some cabbages. And those bags of potatoes that we picked up last week... And those mushrooms from the week before!" Pippin points out giddily. I giggle to myself and keep running.

"Right, Pip," Merry begins, "but my point is, he's clearly overreacting!"

We don't stop running, but in the midst of all five of us on the brink of getting into serious trouble, I begin to laugh. In my rushed, glitzy life in the city, I've never had the privilege of pulling a prank, or just causing plain trouble. Now that I'm involved in such, I decide that it's undeniably fun. The thrill of running from your pursuers is extremely exciting, not to mention the relieved and hectic laughs that are exchanged when you finally get away and begin to plot your next prank. This might be the only time that I'll get to do something like this, but I guess that I'll make the best of it.

Pippin skids to a stop at a drop in the forest. The other four of us stop behind him and try to balance on the steep rim, but we can't stay level, and the five of us tumble in a heap to the edge of a wooded road below. I landed a little ways off, but the four hobbits are in a little pile.

Frodo stands up and looks down the path. I can feel a light wind on my face. "I think we should get off the road," Frodo mutters, but the other three hobbits don't hear him as they have found a patch of mushrooms near the undergrowth. My eyes drift down the road as well, and suddenly I hear an angry hiss in the air. The road seems to warp in the wind as the leaves on the ground fly out in opposite directions. I gasp.

"Get off the road!" Frodo suddenly gasps, and all five of us immediately scramble under a large tree root on the road's edge, which will be sufficient shelter until we can get out of here. I don't even know what's going on, but since I can tell that Frodo has some sort of paranoia going on, I know we're in danger. I slow my breathing to a low whisper as I hear heavy hoofbeats on the ground above us. It's at a slow walk, and it stops when it's closest to us. I squeeze my eyes shut and desperately wish to wake up, but when I open them again I'm still below the tree root. A bead of cold sweat runs down my neck. I don't dare to move or even breathe.

I take a peek through a little hole above the root to whoever -or whatever- is above us. I'm terrified to see an enormous black horse with blazing red eyes. The someone mounted on the horse has a shadowy face, as its dark cloak and hood hides its face. Its hands are armored and big, which fill me with fear as I look away and try to wake up again in vain.

I try not to gasp as I hear the shadowy figure dismount the horse with a sharp thud on the ground. The hobbits are trembling and sweating, their eyes overwhelmed with terror. The figure begins walking towards us slowly. When I see two large armored hands clutch the sides of the very tree root we hide under, I am definitely terrified.

"There is a FireDancccer..." the figure hisses. I refuse to breathe. "...and it is close..."

Suddenly I feel a sharp pang in the back of my head. My eyes widen in pain and horror as the sharp sting spreads all over my head. My fingers begin to tingle as the dark figure's soft breath makes my hair rustle ever so slightly. I close my eyes and open my mouth to scream, but I don't let any sound come out. I don't know what's happening to me.

I can hear a voice inside me, calling from I can't know what.

_Shika... Shika... Shika..._

Out of the blue, I hear something small and hard land in the bushes about ten meters away. The pain in my head is suddenly gone as the figure above us screeches and mounts the horse to follow the sound. It seems that Sam has thrown a cabbage to distract it for our getaway.

As soon as the horse and its mount is out of sight, we scramble madly out of our hiding place and run on the side of the road.

"Good save, Sam!" I whisper loudly. He simply nods and keeps running.

"Wasted a good cabbage," Merry says crankily from behind.

"Better than losing our lives, right?" I whisper back. Merry simply scoffs.

Even at nightfall, we don't stop running. It's the longest I've ever run, but the probability of dying, a thought still lingering in the back of my mind, drives me on. It seems like hours that we run. We barely dodge more of the dark, cloaked forms on demonic horses and are chased onto a ferry only just big enough for all five of us, but all of us are still alive. That should be a good sign, I guess. Why were those dark people chasing us, anyways? And what happened to me under that tree root?

We've arrived at a town called Bree, and we're supposed to find a place called the Prancing Pony Inn. It's raining when we arrive. The others have cloaks to shield them from the cold rain, but all I've got is the clothes on my back. Just great. Before long I'm going to have a bad cold and possibly a fever. I can only assume that it won't be good...

Thankfully, the people of Bree are all ordinary humans, but they stare at the five of us like we're shaggy stray cats or a group of mice among rats. I've never been stared at this way, and I have to say, it's rather embarrassing and uncomfortable. By the time the hobbits and I reach the Prancing Pony, I swear that every pair of eyes in Bree have landed upon us. Now I feel more like an outcast than ever.

Inside the inn, Frodo, at the front of the group, gets the attention of the innkeeper. "Excuse me," he whispers. "Excuse me."

The innkeeper looks down at them then up at me. "Oh, good evening, little masters and young mistress. If you're looking for accommodations, we've got some nice, cozy hobbit-sized rooms available, Mr. ... ah..."

"Underhill," Frodo says quickly. Why is he faking his name? "My name's Underhill." He pauses as the innkeeper nods and grins oddly. "We're friends of Gandalf the Gray Wizard. Can you tell him we've arrived?" The innkeeper narrows his brow in deep thought.

"Gandalf... Gandalf... oh! Oh yes! I remember... elderly chap, old gray cloak, pointy hat?" Frodo nods with relief and smiles, but the innkeeper shakes his head. "...not seen him for six months.

I silently gasp. Frodo said he would be here. I can't get home now. My last chance for not getting involved in some weird adventure that could get me killed, my last chance for going home, gone. Now what, huh?

"What do we do now?" Merry asks Frodo quietly.

Frodo shakes his head sadly, signifying that he has no idea.

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**Reviews are deeply appreciated! 3 Next chapter will be up soon. If you think this is cliche so far, I don't blame you. The storyline is pretty overused but I try to put as many original ideas in it as possible. Please stick with me to the end if you like it! :)**


	6. 5: I' Taur'ohtar en' i' For

Chapter Five: I' Taur'ohtar en' i' For (The Ranger of the North)

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The interior of the inn glows faintly from the log fire to the side. As I sit with Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, I see that not only are there many humans in the place, but there are also a couple more hobbits and even... are those dwarves? Good gracious. Frodo, meanwhile, is trying to remain silent and inconspicuous. for a reason that he refuses to tell me. I almost demand that he tell me what the hell is going on, but I don't want to make us stand out any more than we already are, so I stay silent. Sam keeps glancing around expectantly for the wizard that was supposed to be here.

"Sam, he'll be here," Frodo says reassuringly. "He'll come."

"I certainly hope so," I say softly, hugging my knees. "That wizard is my only chance of getting home. If he doesn't come then I can never go home. I'll be lost." I rest my chin between my knees and stare at the fireplace.

"Don't despair, Lady Shika. I know he'll come. He's been my friend for years and he hasn't disappointed me. I'm sure he can't now."

"I hope you're right, Frodo."

At the next minute, Merry plunks himself down at our table, carrying a large mug of some sort of alcoholic drink. I wrinkle my nose a bit in disgust; I for one have never been one for alcohol. Then again, I'm only fifteen; it's no surprise. Merry stares at his drink almost lovingly and grins.

"What's that?" Pippin asks, gazing at the mug.

"This, my friend, is a pint," Merry replies.

"They come in _pints_?" Pippin says excitedly and in disbelief. "I'm getting one!" He suddenly leaps unsteadily from his seat in his excitement. Sam watches as he bounces to the bar.

"You've had a whole half already!" he points out.

I sigh with an emotion I don't know. Could it be annoyance of Merry and Pippin's immaturity? Could it be sadness of the probability of never getting home? Is it even fear of the high chances that the dark, hooded people could come charging into Bree at any moment and leave no one alive, including us? I'm not sure why I sigh. But I think I might be just tired from our long run and really need some sleep. After a while of listening to the soft chatter from the people around me, my gaze drifts mindlessly at a stranger sitting alone in the corner closest to the fireplace. He's smoking a long-stemmed pipe and looking beneath his worn hood with quiet brown eyes. It is at the moment when the embers of his pipe light up that his eyes are lit up to gleaming orange. And looking straight at me.

I look away quickly. The blazing gaze seemed to burn a hole right through my skin and into my soul. How can a person do that? And does this mysterious man stand out so much like a deer in the headlights?

"Excuse me," Frodo asks the innkeeper as he passes by with a tray of drinks. "That man in the corner... who is he?"

"He's one of them Rangers," replies the innkeeper in a hushed voice. "They're dangerous folk they are, wandering the wilds. What his right name is, I never heard, but round here... he's known as Strider."

With that, he walks away with the tray of three full mugs in his hands. Frodo glances curiously at the man. The embers in his pipe have died down. His face is veiled in shadows.

I silently repeat his name. The word feels odd on my tongue.

For no apparent reason, I glance under the table to see Frodo's fingers toying nervously with a tiny gold object. Is it a family heirloom or perhaps something newer? But more importantly, I don't care. His gaze is drifting from side to side as if he's under observation. Perhaps he is and I just can't know for sure. He seems worried by something, or someone, that's here. At this inn.

Suddenly I hear Pippin's voice. "Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins!"

Oh no. Frodo's identity has been revealed!

Frodo jumps up and tries to shut Pippin up. But Pippin, getting a bit loopy from all the alcohol he's consumed, he carelessly shoves Frodo off. He stumbles backwards and lands on the floor with a loud thump and a grunt of shock, but something flies out into the air. The tiny golden object. Frodo reaches out to catch it, and it is at the moment that I realize that the object is gold ring that Frodo...

...disappears.

My eyes widen in astonishment as sharp gasps are exchanged around the inn. He simply vanished into thin air! How can somebody do that by only putting on a stupid ring? Hey, maybe it's magic and that ring has the power to make someone invisible. Or it could teleport someone to anywhere. I could get home that way, if that theory is perhaps true!

I glance at the hobbits. Sam looks as if he's about to throw up. I'm starting to feel the same. For no reason I steal a look at the ranger in the corner. He's equally surprised but there's not as big a reaction. Everyone else in the inn explodes into an excited babble. I sort of expected the ranger to do something else other than hang out and get high on some sort of weed, but the next time I look at him he's not there. I guess I jumped to conclusions to fast.

I feel I'm going to be sick. This is not going anywhere good.

Sam, Merry, and Pippin run up to me, holding makeshift weapons, like a small chair and candlesticks. I just grab the first thing I find in my pocket, which is a little pink lighter. How did that get there? Guess I didn't go through all four of my pockets. I flick the lighter skeptically. Still works.

Sam glances at Merry and Pippin, then at me. I nod without a word.

A minute later we're running up the stairs to the rooms. If Frodo went anywhere, he probably wanted to catch some Z's, so he went up to our room we rented. But why on earth would he mysteriously vanish just to go to our room to get some sleep? Then again, the ranger disappeared too. Maybe the ranger kidnapped Frodo for some reason I can't think of, and we're unmatched with this guy.

I run ahead to check out the scene. I see a room where the fireplace glows through the cracks in the door, and I peer through one of the cracks. I easily believe what I see. Frodo is standing near the fireplace, his eyes filled with fear. The ranger is there as well with his hood still up.

"What do you want?" Frodo demands, the last of his courage gathered in his voice.

"A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry," says Strider, the ranger. Is he talking about the ring that made Frodo vanish?

"I carry nothing," Frodo says, but anyone could tell he's lying.

"Indeed?" Strider says wittingly. "I can usually avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely..." With that, he removes his hood, revealing his face. He's not what I expected. He doesn't have the heinous look in his eyes or some scar over his face. He seems... normal. Friendly. And his sword isn't drawn. He might be dangerous but he might be okay. I'll know soon.

"...that is a rare gift," he finishes.

"Who are you?"

"Are you frightened?"

"Yes."

All right, now I know this guy is on our side.

"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you." Suddenly, Strider's eyes flash. I think he knows I'm watching. I jerk back from my peephole and press my back to the wall, a bead of cold sweat running down my face in a thin, glimmering line. I hear footsteps inside the room. He's coming for me. Now what?

Suddenly, I see my three hobbit friends running up to the door. I don't move as they burst the door open. I hear Strider draw his sword a little; enough to be cautious but not enough to be frightening.

"Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!" Sam says angrily.

"You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that alone won't save you," Strider says. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."

What's he talking about?

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**Please let me know what you think! 333**


	7. 6: Ilfirin Dae

Chapter Six: Ilfirin Dae (Immortal Shadows)

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The sleepy, cranky gatekeeper emerges from his quarters with a growl, holding a lantern and shivering from the glimmering remnants of the cold, persistent rain. He peers out of a peephole in the closed door and gasps in terror, his eyes widening. Then he screams.

The gate suddenly crashes onto the gatekeeper, and four dark riders riding dark, demonic horses ride into the town of Bree. They nearly fly down the empty streets. At last, they rush into the Prancing Pony with their fearsome swords drawn. The innkeeper trembles and perspires as he hides behind the bar, entirely helpless against the frightening intruders.

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**Yes, I know, it was very short, but I promise it will get better! Please review! ,3  
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	8. 7: I' Uruite Olos

Chapter Seven: I' Uruite Olos (The Fiery Dream)

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I squirm nervously in my makeshift bed. It's only a big wooden chair with a couple of pillows on it. But I'm comfortable nonetheless. Even though the fireplace is still giving off a warm orange glow, there is an odd chill that clings to the air. I rub my arms to get warmer as I stare drowsily at the flickering tongues of fire. Strangely, I feel sleep begin to overtake my mind even though my eyes are still open. Every time I look at fire for a long amount of time, my eyelids begin to get heavy. I can't explain it. Perhaps it is only the nature of fire...

A few hours ago, my four hobbit friends and I met a ranger named Strider. He wants to protect us, but I don't know why. He knows what's after us, and he's going to get us to a safe place. Why he's helping us, I haven't the slightest idea, but I do know that he's okay. Not quite the dangerous brigand I expected him to be.

I snuggle up with one of my pillows and remember what Strider said.

"They were once men," said Strider, staring out the window and at four dark, hooded people on their black horses, and they were screeching angrily. "Kings of men... then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. And now they are slaves to his will." Strider looked from the window as the dark riders raced down the empty streets of Bree. I was brave enough to look at them for a moment. Strider then turned back to the hobbits, his face lit dimly from the fireplace.

"They are the Nazgul, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead," said Strider. "At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."

As sleep takes over my mind, his words repeat themselves over and over again.

_They will never stop hunting you. They will never stop hunting you._

Then... it changes. It's no longer Strider's voice...

It's the same one I heard... before I woke up here in Middle-earth.

_I will never stop hunting you. I will never stop hunting you. I will never stop hunting you._

Soon the words are faintly muffled and then completely silenced, and a dream has sauntered into my mind. It's dark for a while, as dreams usually are, but it feels... different somehow. Like this dream will change all other dreams I will have. Something inside this dream gives me a very dark feeling, as if it's not a dream at all.

I see a girl in front of me, and glowing orange tongues of I don't know what seem to dance on the ground around her. She's only wearing a pair of jeans and a black tank top. Her long light brown hair waves in front of her face in the silent wind, so I can't see her face. Then a gust of wind blows it out from her eyes, and I am prepared to scream myself awake.

Her irises, pupils, and the whites of her eyes are now red. Red as blood. Two equally red scars stretch down from each of her lower water lines, ending just above her jaw. Her face is stained with blood and old perspiration, and blood drips from the long, glistening fangs in her mouth, which are part of her teeth as if they were always there. I've never seen real fangs before. There are even claws replacing her fingernails, and even they are drenched in blood.

It is when she seems to look straight at me that I realize that she looks exactly like me. Same hair. Same face, minus the four scars under her eyes, the dripping blood, the red eyes, and the deadly fangs. Same body. But... it can't be me. There's no way. Not any way on earth.

But I'm not on earth.

Oh god...

"I will dance in the flames..." says the girl, raising her arms, letting the blood run all over her body, and beginning to slowly spin.

"And I will dance with the flames...

"...forever."

I scream, but it sounds more like an angry hiss. As I realize that the sound is coming from inside the girl, who seems to enter my body and make me violently spin in a dizzying dance with no rhythm, the hiss morphs back into my terrified scream, and my eyes snap open. All they see is the dark shadows around me and the glowing fireplace.

What's happening to me?

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**Please please PLEASE let me know what you think of the story so far! This chapter is very close to me and I don't know how I can edit it any more! REVIEWWWWWWWWW 33333333333**


	9. 8: I' Malle' Auta Oio No' ar' No'

Chapter Eight: I' Malle' Auta Oio No' ar' No' (The Road Goes Ever On and On)

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It's early morning when Strider nudges me awake. I guess I fell asleep again. I crack my eyes open and look up at him, who looks like we're about to hike for who knows how long, then I try to shove him away and snuggle back into the pillows. He nudges me again, a little bit more persuasive this time.

"Shika," he says quietly. "We must depart now."

I groan and sit up sleepily. Maybe I can get some more sleep on the way. Oh, wait, I can't. We've actually got to walk, not like those long rides in the car. This is on foot. Oh, yeah, sure, that'll be fun.

"Is there any coffee around?" I say, rubbing my eyes. With a glance at Strider I know he's got absolutely no idea what I'm talking about.

"What?"

"You know, coffee. The stuff that's made from these beans, goes great with sugar, makes you really hyper for a couple of hours?" Strider doesn't look convinced. "You seriously don't have that?"

"Uh," Strider says, glancing away for a moment. "Not that I know of."

"Oh, forget it," I say quickly, stretching my legs out after a long night of sitting in an uncomfortable chair.

"So where are we going?" I ask Strider. He glances at me and smiles wittingly. I kind of know by now that when he smiles like that, something ignited inside him.

"You will know when we arrive," he says.

"Um, actually I probably won't," I say with a hint of sass. "I've never been here before."

Strider doesn't reply, but he tosses something in my lap. It's a thin, dark brown, hooded cloak. I glance up at Strider questioningly.

"That will keep you from looking suspicious at all until we arrive," he says.

I try it on, shrugging my shoulders. the sleeves are nearly skin-tight, which feels rather uncomfortable against my loose shirt. The hem reaches all the way to my knees, but no further down. Well, I guess I'll just have to keep my pink converse shoes exposed. They're not that weird compared to some of the stuff I've seen here.

Only a couple of minutes later, I'm walking briskly behind Strider, with Frodo, Merry, and Pippin right behind me and Sam leading a pony named Bill, who's got a bunch of bags on his back, behind them. We're in a gloomy, overgrown forest, which is cold and a little misty from last night's rainstorm. It must be around six a.m. right now because the sky is already half-lit with sunlight. It's cloaked from the dreary gray clouds but anything could tell the night's over.

"Where are you taking us?" Frodo asks Strider from behind me.

"Into the wild," Strider replies. The rest of us watch uneasily as he moves off into the trees ahead.

Merry walks up to Frodo. "How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" he asks.

"We have no choice but to trust him," Frodo says.

"But where is he leading us? Sam says in a loud whisper, which makes Strider stop and cast a glance at the hobbit.

"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee. To the house of Elrond."

Sam suddenly looks excited. "Did you hear that, Bill?" he says to the pony. "Rivendell! We're going to see the Elves!" Wow, real elves? Just like in the fairy tales I grew up with?

We walk for at least another forty-five minutes across windswept moors until the hobbits suddenly stop and take off their knapsacks. Strider stops too and looks at them. I say nothing, but the cold, misty air is getting to me, and I pull my cloak tighter around me for any warmth I can get.

"Gentlemen, we do not stop until nightfall."

"What about breakfast?" asks Pippin.

"Didn't you already have it a while ago?" I say to the mischievous hobbit.

"We've had that, yes," Pippin says, still looking at Strider. "But what about second breakfast?" He stares at Pippin blankly with a goofy kind of look on his face, but Strider is unconvinced. The ranger turns away, shaking his head. He disappears into the forest ahead of us.

"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," Merry says, swinging his knapsack back over his shoulder. We begin to walk again.

Pippin is right in Merry's face. "What about elvenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't count on it."

Suddenly, an apple is thrown into the air from Strider's direction. Merry catches it. Another is aimed at Pippin, but he fails to catch it, and it lands on his forehead. I stifle a giggle at his blank expression. Merry looks exasperated.

A little while afterwards it begins to rain. I feel even colder now because my cloak is made from thin material. I rub my hands together but it doesn't help; my whole body is soaked anyway. I hope that when we stop tonight, we'll be able to make a fire and we can warm up. It's worse than the height of winter out here.

Eventually it becomes dusk. I've eaten hardly anything at all today, save for an apple or two this morning, but I've kept well hydrated. A couple of years ago I got dehydrated and was sick for a month. I don't want that to happen again, especially in an unfamiliar place with no modern medicine, so I've kept myself hydrated. I don't need to see my breakfast again.

The place that we stop is an ancient ruin on top of a steep hill. Strider stops and looks at us. "This was once the great watchtower of Amon Sul," he says. "We shall rest here tonight." Good. I'm exhausted.

We trudge halfway up the watchtower, which was also called Weathertop, and we are supposed to get higher up, but I find that I can't take another step. I, along with the four hobbits, collapse on the ground near a small hollow. Suddenly, Strider drops five small swords at our feet.

"These are for you," he says. "Keep them close."

"I don't need this stupid thing," I say to Strider, and he glances at me as if I just grew cat ears and a fluffy little tail. "Those Ringwraiths or whatever-you-call-them probably aren't around here. And besides, even if they are here after all, I'm not afraid of them."

Strider laughs quietly. "You will be when they come with the Witch King leading them." At that, I shudder. Not in fear, but in the cold twilight air that seems to hold fear inside its gathering shadows.

Strider turns away from us. "I'm going to have a look around. Stay here."

Good idea; I think I'll just sleep for as long as I can.

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**Thanks for reading! Reviews are deeply appreciated! 3**


	10. 9: Naur ar' Dae

Chapter Nine: Naur ar' Dae (Fire and Shadow)

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It isn't very long before I fall asleep. Luckily, Pippin let me borrow his blanket to keep me warm; it's actually quite cold up here. Frodo has already snuggled up with his own blanket and has drifted off. I dream of nothing, only a lovely, warm darkness and the cold gray embers from a fire that has already died. All of a sudden, the embers begin to glow in a beautiful shade of dark orange. Then to bright orange mixed with blood red. Soon a gleaming spark rises from the embers; furious and red. And it's rising faster... and faster...

Until there is no more darkness with the raging fire.

I drag my eyes open to see that Sam, Merry, and Pippin are huddling over a small fire, cooking something that actually smells good. It's funny, but I haven't been hungry for days. But with that delicious smell of roasting sausage over that fire, my stomach is beginning to angrily growl.

I settle in front of the fire. My eyelids begin to get heavy again as the colors of the flames flash in front of me. Gold, yellow, red, gold, orange, yellow, blue. It cracks, snaps, and waves around in every direction as glowing orange sparks silently rise into the atmosphere, the bitterly cold night air making them tiny gray ashes. I hold my numb hands in front of the fire to warm them, making sure that I don't burn myself.

Suddenly I realize that I brought my hands too close. A single tongue of fire grazes over my left hand. Strangely, I feel nothing. The little flame caresses over my hand, twisting between my fingers in the gentlest of touches. It seems to like me. Another flame latches onto my hand, adding itself to the fire. Eventually, several tongues of fire lick and twist on my hand, forming a sphere-like image in the air. Part of me wants the fire to dance on my skin even more. I only watch in fascination, not even bothering to flick them off like anyone else would. This is too beautiful, too incredible, and much too rare to ignore.

I am distantly aware that Merry suddenly gasps. "Lady Shika, your hands!" he cries, glancing at my fingers, then at the fire, and then back at my hands.

"I'm all right," I say distantly, still staring at the fire. "I'm not being burned."

Huh? What? I can't be burned?

My god... what's going on?

At last I take my hands away, the fire jumping off and latching back onto the campfire. I clench them into fists, and then open again, as if to squeeze pus out of an open wound. Perhaps it is only a skin mutation that I was born with. Then again, when I was five years old I burned my hand on a hot stovetop burner. It might be that I got a skin mutation a couple of years ago, or a few months, a few weeks, maybe even days or hours. It's got to be anything but magic; such a thing doesn't exist. But if magic doesn't exist, then what caused Frodo to disappear when he put on that little ring? I'm sure it wasn't magic.

Maybe it was. After all, I'm most definitely in another world.

I forget about it and take a sausage into my hands that Sam is offering me. Before I can take a single bite, though, Frodo unexpectedly wakes up. His face suddenly seems startled and scared.

"What are you doing?" he blurts out.

"Tomatoes, sausages, and crispy bacon," Merry replies with a grin. Without another word I sink my teeth into the sausage. My gosh, it's amazing. All right, I've had better, but this is the first thing I've eaten in two whole days. Anything tastes good when you've been deprived of it. I once heard this story about this guy who got stranded in the middle of a desert and ended up drinking his own urine. I just hope I don't end up in that sort of situation.

"We saved some for you, Mr. Frodo," says Sam.

Frodo jumps up and begins to stomp on the fire, kicking dirt on the flames, which reduces them to ashes. Some of them fly carelessly into my face, and I sneeze. "Put it out, you fools! Put it out!" Frodo says desperately.

Pippin begins to protest, but he manages to stay the comical person he is. "Oh, that's nice. Ash on my tomatoes!" It's as if he ironically considers it an additional ingredient. I giggle a bit, and Frodo seems to notice. His face is filled with terror. Talk about paranoia.

But I will soon understand his fear...

Suddenly an ominous shriek fills the air. It's dark and angry; a cry of war. The shriek becomes a deafening screech, growing louder and louder and louder. The four hobbits suddenly gasp and take several steps back in stunned fear. A realize that a pale blue light, strong and powerful, is blowing onto my back and spilling onto the ground in strong, thick beams. A dark form rises up behind me, screeching a war cry. I turn slowly, as if time itself has been twisted like threads, and scream in pure terror.

Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and I all burst into a mad race to the peak of Weathertop, drawing our swords and clutching them with sweat-soaked hands. The only thing that keeps me running is the ongoing voice that echoes in my mind...

_I will never stop hunting you. I will never stop hunting you._

The five of us, having arrived at Weathertop's summit, race madly into a ring of broken stones. It is the ruined base of an ancient tower. The four hobbits stand back-to-back in the center while I'm somewhat protected by them in the center of their small circle. We wait in terrified fear for the first strike of I don't know what.

One by one, tall, hooded people with concealed faces appear in front of us. Four of them. No, five. We're matched in numbers, but not in strength and skill. I've never fought with a sword in my life! Okay, maybe play-fighting with long twigs when I was a toddler, but that doesn't count. Not only are these dark people strong and way bigger than all of us combined, but they've also got enormous, gleaming swords. Mine isn't even half the size of one of those things.

"Back, you devils!" Sam snaps bravely, waving his sword wildly in their faces. The tallest and darkest of all, most likely their leader, blocks a strike from Sam's sword with his armored hand. Sam's blade suddenly shatters into a million pieces, a few of the tiniest of them lodging in his face. He cries out in pain and terror. The Witch King, as I remember what he's called, suddenly strikes Sam, sending him flying then crashing onto the floor a few meters away. Merry and Pippin are overwhelmed with fear and scoot back, eventually stumbling to the ground. I back up and stand in front of Frodo, protecting him.

A dark voice begins to dance in my mind. Where is it coming from? Its voice is smooth as the inside of a clamshell and as soft as a rabbit's fur. It seems familiar to me, but I can't quite remember where I've heard it. The words are blurry and muffled, but I can only assume that it's trying to tell me something. I close my eyes as the four Ringwraiths and the Witch King surround us.

My fingers begin to tingle. My knees begin to shake like noodles. Gleaming beads of sweat run down my face in thin silver lines. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out.

_I will never stop hunting you..._

_ ...Shika. _

_ Accept that you can never escape. Your fire is rising. You cannot control it._

"Stop... stop it!" I say, still squeezing my eyes shut and not knowing that I said it out loud. "I don't know what you're talking about! Stop it!"

_Ah, my dear child. Do not try to conceal who you truly are. Identity is something we all search for our entire lives but only a few find it. You are one of those who have already found it but you do not know so... But it will be easy for you, child. Deep in the molten core of your heart, there are cold embers surrounded by gray ashes, but your embers are beginning to glow. Let your embers rise. Embrace the flames in your heart._

"What flames? I'm... I'm only a human girl. What are you talking about?"

_You don't know who you are, do you? But fear not, child. The flames will rise, and there is nothing you can do to stop it._

"Damn it, I'm a human!" I scream. The voice in my mind subsides.

I suddenly feel all right again. Was that my own imagination, or was that voice someone else's? I don't know, but this is no time to think about that. Frodo's not looking so good. He's already shut his eyes, and he's staggering backwards, resisting something in his mind. Is he resisting the same voice that was in my own mind? The Ringwraiths, including the Witch King, screech in excitement and anticipation. Frodo falls to his knees and slips something out of his pocket... a gold ring.

He's vanished again.

Strider's words begin to flow back into my mind.

_"At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One."_

Suddenly I'm screaming, "Frodo, no! Take off the ring! You're going to get yourself killed!" But he's already gone. I can't see or hear him anywhere, not even footsteps.

Sam is struggling to stay conscious, Merry and Pippin are being held to the ground with their own shuddering fear, and Frodo has disappeared. I don't know where he's gone or if he's still here. My hands are sweaty and trembling, and my sword slips from my fingers, landing on the stone floor with a loud clatter. I'm alone. Five powerful Ringwraiths that cannot die against one fifteen-year-old human girl that has hands that can't be burned by fire.

Wait... cannot be burned?! It's all coming together!

The flames that didn't melt my fingers, the whispers dancing in my mind, the searing pain and ominous tingling under the tree root, the vision of a corrupted and dark version of myself dancing in fire...

I know what it all means. I can hold fire.

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**Personally, I adore how this chapter turned out. I'd love to hear what you guys think! Please review! 3**


	11. 10: I' Gael Yuula

Chapter Ten: I' Gael Yuula (The Glowing Embers)

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I can hold fire.

Without thinking for another moment, I dig my hand into my pocket, where my little lighter still remains. My fingers curl around it and tighten, then I pull it out. I flick it, revealing a gleaming yellow flame. My eyes narrow. I pant wildly as I tighten my other hand into a fist. I can do this. I raise the flame to my open hand, and when I do, the Witch King shrieks with anticipation, as if he wants me to do this. The tiny fire slips off the lighter and onto my hand, and I jerk back for a moment, thinking my hand will be burnt to a crisp from the little fire, but nothing happens. The little flame only passionately caresses my hand like a lover.

The flame, once activated by the lighter, is now in my control. And it's rising.

I look up with wild eyes. This is no dream and no fairy tale. This is real.

Suddenly the Witch King steps forward to a place a few meters away from me. He stoops down and reaches for something less than a foot off the ground. I hear nothing, but the thing he could be reaching for might be Frodo. Still invisible, but still physically real. I take a step back and cup the rising flame in both of my hands. It's still getting bigger with every breath I take, and I can't feel a thing, only a little bit of warmth. I watch as the Witch King jerks his haggard hand back, then stabs at the air with a wicked, jagged dagger.

A scream fills the air, a muffled and dark scream, a scream of pain, and it's Frodo's scream. I gasp.

All of a sudden I can no longer think. The Ringwraiths have wounded my friend, and if I stay standing here like this they might take the lives of all my friends. I will not let that happen, not ever. I scream my war cry and leap forward, facing my open palms toward the Witch King. Just as he turns to face me, his dark hood slips down a little, revealing his wicked red eyes and gleaming fangs. I feel raging anger rising in my soul, making the fire rise even more. No longer is it just a little flame, but now a furious inferno.

The fire that my hands ignited burst into the Witch King's face, and he screeches angrily. The other four Ringwraiths screech as well and leap towards me. But I know what to do. I bring my hand to two of the dark riders, and they are engulfed in my flames as well. With one more blast at the Witch King they step away from me. I begin to shout.

"Afraid of fire, huh?! And I can control it! How about that! What are you gonna do about that, huh?! Come at me! I'm ready!"

_Ah. So, you have discovered. I'm impressed._

"Be quiet, voice. I won't be ruled by the likes of you. Shut up and get out of my mind!" With that, I raise my face to the stormy clouds above me and scream. Not in pain, not in fear, but in anticipation of the battle that will soon commence.

The revolution between fire and shadow has begun.

Suddenly, the painful scream I heard a moment ago fills the air again, this time less muffled and dark. It's clearer now. And it's coming from the place where the Witch King tried to grab something. Now I know what he stabbed at for sure.

I turn and see Frodo, the dark dagger wedged into his shoulder. It doesn't bleed, but with the way that he's screaming, I know it can't be good. I call out his name, only to be echoed by Strider's voice.

"Strider!" I shout, and he glances at me without replying.

The fire in my hands has died down to a fireball the size of a baseball, but it's still deadly. Must be my anger that's died down to surprise. Strider is holding a burning torch, and his sword is in his other hand. I run to him and thrust my hands into the fire, making the fireball grow to the size of my head. With a shout I release it, aiming at the Witch King. He screeches, his face engulfed in the flames, and he swings his sword at me. I jump back, but the tip grazes my thighs, not enough to break my skin but enough to tear the fabric of my jeans.

I am about to release another fireball at his face, but I stop when I hear another scream. Strider's scream. Wheeling around on my heel, I see that one of the Ringwraiths has pinned him down, a dagger held at his throat. He's struggling, but he's growing weak. My skin breaks out into cold sweat as I realize that now I really am alone in this fight. Frodo is wounded and possibly dying, the other hobbits are either pinned down or cowering in fear, and Strider is being held to the ground, losing his strength as the dagger is held sharply to his throat. My eyes grow wide, and even though I still feel furious rage rising in my heart, the fireballs die.

A dark arm suddenly wraps itself around my neck. A panicked shriek escapes my lips. I look up to see that it is the Witch King that has seized me, half of his hood charred by my fire. I can see one of his eyes, which is blood red and angry. He opens his mouth and chuckles deeply, revealing his gleaming white fangs. I clench my teeth, my eyes wild and frightened, and I try to free myself from his grasp. But now I realize just how strong the Witch King really is, and I find that I cannot move.

_You are a FireDancer, are you not? How else could you hold the furious flames in the palm of your hand? Is there no end to your many surprises, FireDancer? _

"What are you talking about?" I whisper through excited gasps. "I've never heard of a FireDancer in my life... And even if I am one of them, what could you possibly want with me?"

He chuckles again. _Even though you may control fire... Mere flames cannot kill us. We are immortal. We are neither living nor dead. Nothing can take the lives that are no longer our own. Not even the One Ring, destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom, can kill us. You will watch now, child, as we devour you and your friends. One by one, they will die. And you shall be the last to die._

Oh, my god...

Suddenly, memories of my friends begin to flash before my eyes. The first look I had of Strider with his long-stemmed pipe. Pippin stumbling on top of me. Frodo telling me that I can come with them to Bree. Merry grumbling about the cabbage that made an improvised diversion. Sam getting scared because he's so far from home. Pippin going on about the vegetables he and Merry stole. Frodo reassuring me that the wizard that never came will help me get home. Merry admiring his pint of alcoholic drink. Sam offering me that sausage only minutes ago. Strider handing me the thin cloak that reached to my knees but served as sufficient protection.

I've known them only for a couple days and now, I realize, I've treated them as if I've known them since grade school. And they treat me the same way. I trust them. I admire them. I laugh and cry with them. They are kind to me even though I'm a stranger from another world. They are my friends.

I refuse to let them die.

I narrow my eyes and clench my teeth, grazing my tongue over the insides of them. It is then that I feel something I've never felt before in my teeth. Four of them, two on top and two on bottom, are longer and sharper than the rest.

Fangs.

My scream of fury fills the air again as I dig my fangs into the Witch King's arm and throw him off of me, then let a large fireball rise in my hands. I release it, letting the flames lick the dark cloth and multiply themselves, growing higher and higher and burning hotter and brighter. The Witch King screeches in fury and pain and flees from the summit of Weathertop, followed by the three Ringwraiths that are left.

I close my eyes and stand in the center of the summit, not caring if the smoke rises from my hands and licks my hair. My head hurts, not stinging pain like under the tree root, but just throbbing. It feels like my head will burst open from the inside at any moment. The fire, rage, and chaos has died down, leaving shadows and smoke that is still hot from the flames.

I look up to see Sam, running with a panicked and horrified look in his eyes.

"Mr. Frodo!" he shouts.

Strider stands up from the place where the Ringwraith pinned him down, and he kneels down beside Frodo, who is moaning and gasping, as if his mind is trapped in a dark twilight world. Strider snatches up the dagger that was previously lodged inside Frodo's shoulder. The blade is nicked at several places, long, thin, and poisonous, as I now can assume. I walk over to where Sam and Strider are leaning over Frodo, and while I do so, Merry and Pippin run up to me.

"Lady Shika?" Pippin asks me, tugging on the hem of my shirt like a toddler. "What happened to the dark riders? Merry and I couldn't see."

I sigh, but do not look at him. "They were burned."

"Burned?" Merry echoes, and the three of us stop. "By Strider's torch? It went out long before the riders fled. What burned them?"

I turn to them, my face darkened.

"I did."

With that, I turn towards Strider, walk to him, and kneel beside him. I stare at Frodo's distant face. His wound has no blood, not even under the skin. It's as if the dagger sucked out the blood like a vampire's fangs.

Fangs. My tongue searches the inside of my mouth for them, and sure enough, my own fangs are still there. How could I have gotten them? I know for sure that I'm not a FireDancer, as the Witch King called me, but how can I know for sure if I am or not? I can't confirm it...

Sam looks at Strider with desperate eyes. "Help him, Strider!" he gasps.

Strider looks at the blade. "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," he says grimly. The blade suddenly melts, vanishing into thin air like the smoke that has dissipated from my hands. He throws down the bare hilt in disgust.

"Do something!" says Sam, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

"This is beyond my skill to heal," Strider responds darkly. "He needs Elvish medicine." He suddenly lifts Frodo onto his shoulders.

"Strider wait, I have to tell you someth-" I begin, but Strider turns to me suddenly with a shadowy look on his face.

"Lady Shika, our time has run short. We must make haste if Frodo is to live." He turns and begins to jog to the bottom of Weathertop. The other hobbits and I follow without another word. I have to tell Strider about my new ability and my fangs, or else I'll never figure out what's happening to me. But if we're going to the home of the Elves, then perhaps they can tell me what's going on.

But what about the voice calling me a FireDancer? Was that voice really the Witch King, or was it someone else that was talking to me?

Do FireDancers have something to do with the fire that was raised in my hands?...

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**I'm loving how the story is turning out so far. Currently this is my favorite chapter! Next one will be up as soon as I polish it up a bit! :D Stay tuned!**


	12. 11: I' Ddainme e' i' Dome

Chapter Eleven: I' Ddainme e' i' Dome (The Woman in the Night)

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Night. The time when your cold fear becomes furious nightmares. The time when the shadows' poison makes you want to stay inside them forever. The time when light seems the brightest as well as the darkest. The time when you begin to question your very identity. Perhaps even as a human.

Only minutes ago, I discovered something about myself. I can control fire. The Witch King, a dark and immortal figure, told me that I'm a FireDancer, but I've never heard of a FireDancer in my life. This new ability seems frightening and amazing at the same time, like when you watch a horror movie with a beautiful romance hidden inside. But this is different; a movie is only fiction. This is real. I believe that now that I've discovered this, I'm more powerful than a lot of people here in this world, perhaps even Strider or the Ringwraiths. As far as I know, I'm the only one on the planet that can tame angry tongues of fire. Is this ability known throughout Middle-earth? Is it dreaded by everyone?

Am I an outcast now?

I don't know, but this is no time to be worrying about that. Frodo could be dying.

Strider jogs through the underbrush, carrying Frodo on his back. The young hobbit groans and opens his eyes only to reveal them rolled back. His mind is trapped in a weird twilight world and I don't know if he's able to come out. The other three hobbits are running behind me to keep up, and they carry small torches for protection and guiding.

"Hurry!" Strider says urgently. I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders as an ominous chill fills the air. Night often does so. Even worse, night can often play with your mind. I begin to believe that now that the Ringwraiths know that I can control fire, they might either avoid me to the utmost of their ability, or they might try to destroy me.

"We are six days from Rivendell," says Sam. Frodo groans again. "He'll never make it!"

Suddenly I can hear Frodo's fevered calls. "Gandalf... Gandalf?" His eyes flicker open again, clouded and red-rimmed. His entire face is soaked in perspiration, and his breathing is getting dangerously shallow. I bite my lower lip as I realize that he might never breathe again after tonight.

"Is he going to die?" asks Pippin to no one in particular. Strider looks out into the darkness as if the silent shadows themselves have a sort of danger inside.

"No," says Strider, and I breathe a sigh of relief, but only too soon. "He is passing into the shadow world. He will soon become a wraith like them."

I bring a hand to my mouth in shock as the smallest traces of tears begin to form in my eyes. I can hardly imagine Frodo with blood red eyes and a hiss in his voice as he tries to plunge his small sword in my heart. So corrupted, so dark, so nightmarish.

"Oh, my god," I whisper almost inaudibly. The tears in my eyes begin to overflow. If I had only been faster to drive away the Witch King and his minions, Frodo would be all right. If only I was stronger, if only I had more knowledge of my newfound power, if only I hadn't woken up in this world that's made of nothing but nightmares...

Oh god, somebody make me wake up!

"Strider, I... it's my fault that this happened," I say in a light whisper, trying to whip away the tears that have already begun to stream down my face. "I didn't get the Ringwraiths away fast enough! I should have been stronger! I'll never be anything except a useless little girl that can control fire..."

Suddenly, Strider looks up in surprise. There is fear in his eyes. "What did you say?"

"I said I can control fire. It can't burn me, and I can make my own flames that are very destructive." I pause to sniff and try once more to dry my eyes with my sleeve. "I could have done it... I could have saved Frodo, and you guys wouldn't have been pinned down. Even with fire I'm not strong enough!" A sob escapes from my lips. I look away and cover my face with my hands as the tears come uncontrollably. The only thing that keeps me from bursting away in a mad run is that Frodo needs me. If I leave now than there will be only Strider to protect him. All Frodo needs is his friends next to him. But we're here, and we have to find something to heal him.

Suddenly the angry cry of a Ringwraith, very distant but getting closer, is carried through the air by the wind. A chill runs down my spine, and I clutch my left wrist with my right hand. If they come, I'll be prepared.

"They're close..." Merry says nervously, glancing around. Frodo gasps suddenly in pain, as if the very presence of the Ringwraiths hurts him.

Strider bites down on his lower lip, thinking hard. "Sam," he says, "do you know the Athelas plant?" Sam looks blank for a moment.

"Athelas?" he echoes.

"Kingsfoil," says Strider, using a different name.

"Kingsfoil. Aye. It's a weed."

"It may help to slow the poison," Strider says urgently. "Hurry!"

"I'll go with you!" I exclaim suddenly. Strider turns to me and nods.

Merely a few seconds later, I'm running with Strider and Sam on a darkened forest floor for that little plant that will save Frodo's life. I hear Strider muttering something about a small, white flowered plant. He stops suddenly, dropping to one knee, and I notice that he's found it. He is about to carefully pull it from the ground when I see the tip of a blade touch his neck. My eyes widen, and I freeze.

"What's this?" a deep female voice says from beneath a dark hood, just like when I first saw Strider. "A Ranger caught off his guard?"

"What's the big idea, huh? Scaring me out of my insanity like that," I say suddenly, staring at the figure in front of me.

"You need not be afraid of me, young one," the figure says, removing her hood to reveal a beautiful woman. She has dark brown hair and dark brown eyes with long eyelashes, but her skin is pale and flawless. My jaw nearly drops to the ground when I see that her ears are pointed.

God almighty. This woman is an elf!

Not a minute later, we come back to the clearing where Frodo and the others are waiting for us. The elf-woman, whose name, as I discover, is Arwen Undomiel, kneels beside Frodo and dabs his wound with three fingers. He gasps in pain.

"Who is she?" Pippin asks to no one in particular, as those hobbits often do.

I turn to Merry and Pippin. "She's Arwen, and she's an elf. She's going to help Frodo."

Arwen looks up to Strider with an urgent concern in her eyes. "He's fading. He's not going to last. We must get him to my father," she says, and Strider quickly lifts Frodo and places him on Arwen's white horse. "I have been looking for you for two days," Arwen continues.

"Where are you taking him?" Pippin asks her. She turns to look at him and says,

"There are five Wraiths behind you," she soothes. "Where the other four are, I do not know."

Strider suddenly begins to speak in a language I cannot understand, and Arwen responds, her tone grazed with fear. For a few more moments, they continue to talk to each other in that same language. Perhaps it's Elvish, but I'm not entirely sure.

"What are they saying?" Pippin asks, but I shush him. Arwen suddenly reaches for Strider's hand, looking deep into his eyes. I can suddenly tell that they have been friends for a long time, and... well, I don't know. Maybe they want to be more than friends...

"I do not fear them," she says darkly. Strider opens his mouth to speak, but not a sound comes out. I suddenly realize that it is hard for him to let her go. She must be trying to get Frodo to her father, who is probably a healer of some sort. I can't understand any of this...

Arwen suddenly mounts her horse, clutching the ailing Frodo around his torso.

"Arwen... ride hard, don't look back," Strider whispers to her, and she looks down at him, then whispers something in that same language to her horse, and it dashes off.

"Arwen, wait!" I suddenly shriek, running towards them. "Those Wraiths are still out there! You're going to get yourself killed-"

But she's gone.

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**Here you are; the next chapter! I hope you like it. Please review! 3**


	13. 12: I' Eska en' i' Quessir

Chapter Twelve: I' Eska en' i' Quessir (The Home of the Elves)

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Merely a few hours after the hours of terror in the night, we arrive at Rivendell, the home of the elves. It's much more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Heck, even the trees are beautiful. Despite the warm sunlit air, I'm shivering from the misty, fiery night before. My clothes are nearly completely soaked in sweat and old dew, soaking me to the bone. The sunlight dries my hair, though, but fails to get the dew out of my pink converse shoes. They squeak and slosh with ever step, which will probably end up getting sores on my feet later. Perhaps we can heal up here and then I can find another way to get home.

How long have I been here in the mystical place called Middle-earth? Two days? Three or four? I can't tell for sure right now. Somehow, time was mixed up with my mind and became twisted in a way that I can't remember what day it is, what month it is, or even what year it is. Last time I checked, it was early September in 2014, but now people are telling me that it's October 3018. Have I really been here for nearly a month?

All the way to Rivendell, Strider gently holds me up with his arm around my shoulders. I'm stumbling, shivering, struggling to keep my eyes open, and biting down so hard on my lower lip that it begins to bleed. For a moment I feel blazing hot, then I feel freezing cold. Cold and warm sweat drenches my face and neck, making me seem as if I'm the one that got stabbed with that Wraith blade and not Frodo.

As Strider leads me up a white stone staircase to who knows where, I begin to wonder about Frodo. Is he all right? Did Arwen's father heal him? I desperately hope that he's going to be okay. It was my fault that he was hurt, and if he dies then I'll never forgive myself.

I couldn't. Not ever.

The place that Strider has led me to is a small bedroom. I'm about to tell him to take me to Frodo, but somehow I can't find my voice. Nothing comes out, and it is all I can do to stay standing. Soon my legs give out, and I collapse to the floor. Everything goes black.

After a while, I wonder if I'm still alive. I don't see anything. I don't feel anything. Is this what it's like to be dead? Just blackness and nothing more? No, this is just like when I first came here. If I was dead then I couldn't be thinking like this. It is a long time after that before I think again. Will I wake up back home? I wish with all my heart that I do. The only thing that holds me back is that Frodo needs me, if he's still alive. That ring he's got has something to do with the Ringwraiths that nearly killed us, and if he's going to keep the ring away from them then he needs all the help he can get.

But I'm homesick. My parents are probably really worried about me, and they've probably called the FBI by now to find me, but I know that they won't find a single trace of me. If I do wake up from this blackness and find myself at home, what will happen to everyone here? And what's more, what will happen to my newly found ability to control fire?

Will it disappear from my entirety because it was all just a dream?

Suddenly the dark silence in my mind is broken by a voice. It's muffled, blurry; distant even. But I hear it. I can hear it. Could it be my mom? Daddy?

"Shika. Shika, can you hear me? Hear my voice... come back to the light."

My eyes reluctantly crack open, letting rays of golden sunshine into my eyes. It momentarily stings, but the hurt fades as I grow used to it. My eyes are half-open after a moment, and I see dappled sunlight shining through the leaves of ancient trees with beautiful stone structures built around them to preserve their splendor. More buildings are built around white stone cliffs overlooking a misty waterfall.

No. I'm not home. Not at all.

I blink several times. There is a man standing beside me, and I can barely see his face, but he has straight dark hair and shadowed eyes. By his garb and his pointy ears I can tell that he's some race other than human. Great. The last thing I want is to get mixed up with a bunch of names I've never heard of before that are really hard to pronounce.

"She's come to," says the person beside me. I squeeze my eyes shut and groan. Fireworks are going off in my head at a million miles an hour.

"What happened?" I manage to mumble, but they don't seem to hear. Another person comes up to me, an old man with dusty gray robes and a long gray beard. Could this be the wizard friend that Frodo had to meet at the Prancing Pony?

The old man smiles warmly. "Good afternoon, Shika. I am Gandalf the Grey. Welcome to Rivendell."

I suddenly sit up, not worrying about my headache, which is fired up more by my sudden movement. "Oh my gosh, it's the afternoon already?" I exclaim. "How long was I out?"

"Four days," says the dark-haired man to my right. I glance at him, back at the old man, then remember my headache. It's worse than ever now. I sigh and plop my head back down on the pillow; all I want is sleep right now.

"I gotta go home..." I mumble. "Mom and Dad are probably really worried about me..."

"Do not fret, Shika," says the old man. I guess I should call him Gandalf now. "I'm sure we will find some way to return you to your home."

I try to smile, but my head hurts so badly that I can hardly move. All I can manage is a small nod.

Over the next few days, I slowly recover. It turns out that I caught a really bad fever on the night that Frodo was wounded, and when I blacked out, the elves gave me some sort of sedative that would make me sleep for a couple of days. Sleep always helps sickness, I suppose. And, to my great relief, Frodo is still alive. The wound wasn't as bad as I suspected, but he will carry a little bit of the dagger's poison in his body for the rest of his life. But it could be a lot worse. Worst-case scenario? He becomes a Ringwraith and wreaks havoc all over Rivendell. Luckily he's okay and looks as good as ever. I'm really glad of that.

Fate seems to be smiling on me more than I imagined. Only a few people know about my ability to control fire: Strider, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. They haven't told anyone, as they recently informed me, and I know that I can trust them with my secret. I don't know what would happen to me if they told someone. I'm not willing to take that risk...

After I've been in Rivendell for around a week, including the four days I was out, I finally get around to wearing my old clothes again. Ever since I got here I've been wearing a pale yellow dress made out of this light, silky stuff. It feels amazing on my skin and it fits as if it was made just for me, but nothing fits like my old school uniform, skinny jeans, and pink converse shoes. When I slip back into them, I feel closer to home. They even smell like home a little bit, if you know what I mean. Home smells like the city, and the city smells like cigarette smoke, gasoline, and syrupy cappuccino. It's not the best scent in the world, but it's home.

As soon as my school shirt slips over my head, I take a deep breath through my sleeve. It smells just like home. It is then that I feel very... homesick. I'm surprised. I almost never feel homesick, mostly because I'm never away from home. The farthest I go is on a vacation to the country for a week or two, but it's not too far from New York City, where I live. If I really am in another world, then this is the farthest I will probably ever go from home.

How far could I go before I could never go home?

I bite on my lower lip, trying to rid myself of the idea. Of course I can go home! It is only a matter of time before Gandalf or Elrond, the leader of Rivendell, find a way to get me back. I could go home. I just have to be patient. Just gotta wait.

I hate waiting.

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**Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think in the review box below! 333333**


	14. 13: I' Dina Nalla

Chapter Thirteen: I' Dina Nalla (The Silent Cry)

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Six days have passed since I woke up from my feverish state. Nothing has changed around, only the fact that I often hear people whispering about me behind my back. I feel like an outcast, a fugitive from death itself, a... a monster. Why would they say such things about me? Suppose one of the hobbits or Strider told someone about my secret fire ability, or my fangs, which haven't yet disappeared? I don't know what would happen then if that is true.

When the day comes that marks me being in Rivendell for over a week, a quiet afternoon is interrupted by three unlikely arrivals. One is a young man, much like Strider in appearance, save for clothes that are less ranger-like and more taken care of, and his face is slightly different, too: bright brown eyes, chestnut hair like mine, and chestnut fuzz around his mouth and chin. The second unexpected arrival is a dwarf. Or is he a hobbit? No, he couldn't be; his beard is too long and too fuzzy for that. These two arrivals don't seem to draw my attention very much, but it is the third that nearly takes my breath away.

He's... he's... an elf.

And a really cute one, at that.

Before I can catch any details of him, I turn away and grin to myself. Back home, I used to really like this guy named Scott who was in high school. I'll never forget the first time I saw him: it was my first day of middle school, and he was just a freshman in high school. When I saw him down the hall for the first time, something went off in my mind like a firework sparkler. It seemed as if everything else disappeared, leaving only me, the hall walls, and him. Especially him. He had the darkest eyes, the longest eyelashes, the thickest hair, and the softest-looking skin. Unfortunately I never had the chance to touch it, except for that one time in sixth grade where I crashed into him in the cafeteria, and the Christmas dance night in seventh grade when I finally got to dance with him. It was just him, the lights, the music, and me. I couldn't take my eyes off his dark chocolate ones. Scott. My first crush.

And now I like another, just in the same way.

When I turn away, I'm staring straight into the gray-blue eyes of Gandalf. Was he waiting for me?

"If you please, Shika, I must speak with you privately," he says darkly, barely in a whisper.

I silently panic as I begin to wonder if he's going to talk to me about my secret. Who could have told him, and who would dare to do so? A silent apprehension begins to rise inside me, but I hide it with a hesitant, blissful grin.

"Sure," I say with a little nod.

A few minutes later, we are alone in a small building, probably the archives of Rivendell, considering all the books piled onto the countless, dusty shelves. Gandalf glances around to make sure we're alone, then grips my shoulders suddenly, gazing deep into my eyes. The panic rises even more inside.

"Shika, is it true that you have power over fire?" he asks in an urgent tone.

I nod, feeling beads of sweat run down my neck. "Who told you this?" I whisper.

"The ranger that brought you and the others here," he responds.

What?... How... how could he? I thought I could trust him!

"Do not think he has betrayed you," Gandalf suddenly says, as if he can read my thoughts like a book. "He is only protecting you."

"How can he protect me by telling them?" I say, trying to hold down my burning anger. "People have been whispering about me. They know about my power. And what good would it do, anyways? Maybe I'm the only one that has this power, maybe I'm not. But I'm a monster. I'm not like other people at all. Not only do I have power over fire, but I've got fangs, too!"

By now I've raised my voice to nearly a shout, and I've shoved Gandalf's wrinkly hands off my shoulders. His eyes are filled to the brim with deep thoughts, shock, and a tinge of fear. "Fangs like an animal! Like a vampire! I'm a bloodthirsty firepower monster! A monster!"

By now I can't hold it back. The tears begin to well up in my eyes, and my knees give out, leaving me on the floor. I cover my face with my hands and bite down on my lower lip, not caring if my fangs dig inside my flesh. When my hands reach my face, my palms are still hot from the fire. The fire of an animal. The fire of a vampire. A bloodthirsty firepower monster. That's who I am, no changing it. And after all those years of thinking that I was an ordinary girl...

Oh, my god. _I'm not human._

Gandalf tries to place his hand on my shoulder, but I scoot back to angrily reject his comfort. He draws back his hand, as if to understand that I want to be alone, but he doesn't leave the room.

"Shika, I know this may be hard for you," he says softly. "But it is not as dreadful as it seems. Fangs aren't all bad, you know. At least you don't have the lust for blood like a real vampire."

I sniff and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. He's right about the fangs. No one could have said it better, in fact.

"I'm afraid your fire is the real problem, my dear," he suddenly says, his gaze narrowing.

I take in a deep gulp, preparing for what he will say.

"The Witch King called you a FireDancer, yes?"

I nod, biting harder on my lip.

"Shika, according to history, FireDancers are extremely dangerous, er... individuals. They have the same ability as you: fire control. The ability can't easily be controlled, even if you try with all your will power and mind. That is what makes these FireDancers dangerous; their best strength is their worst curse."

I stand up suddenly, looking at the old wizard straight in the eye. "Don't tell me anymore, old man. I think I know enough about these FireDancers. I'm scared stiff enough of this whole mess as it is! Please, just leave me alone. I want to be a normal girl, all right? I want to me normal."

Gandalf shakes his head. "That is not your choice," he says darkly. "You are who you are."

"I don't care!" I cry out angrily. "I can be who I choose to be, got it? And I choose to be normal!" My voice calms suddenly. "Nothing can change my choice, old man. Leave me alone."

Gandalf sighs as I turn away, staring at the floor in front of me. "All right, Shika. I understand that this is difficult for you; things like this take time to come inside."

Without another word, he walks away, leaving me alone in the library. But before he goes out the door, he stops and looks back at me. I look at him, a single tear running down my face in a thin, glimmering line. "I shall leave you now to your thoughts."

And he's gone. I sink down to the floor again, hugging my knees in silent, dreary despair.

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**Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think! 333**


	15. 14: I' Malle' N'ner Wanwa No'

Chapter Fourteen: I' Malle' N'ner Wanwa No' (The Road Less Gone On)

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For a long time the library is empty and silent, so much so that even the slightest sound shoots a self-repeating echo throughout the place. The only living thing in the whole place is me; poor, tragic me. Just melancholy, powerful, mysterious me. Despite the fact that I have barely told a soul about my secret ability and that I know more about myself than anyone else in the world, it seems as if it's actually reversed. People know more about me than I do myself. Whatever a FireDancer is, as Gandalf called me only minutes ago, whoever those individuals are, I'm one of them. Fire lovers. Blood addicts. We're monsters. I simply cannot accept the fact that I am someone that's the complete opposite of human. I can't. All my life I knew that I was special in some way, that I had an amazing future ahead of me, but I never knew that it would be anything like this.

God almighty, please, not like this.

When the golden afternoon sun begins to turn orange-red from the early evening, I finally decide in my mind that I should leave the library. My hobbit friends or Strider might wonder where I am. I stand up, wiping the crust left by my tears away on my sleeve and brushing a lock of my chestnut hair out of my eyes. As I pass through the arched doorway, I realize that Rivendell is as silent as a stone. It's as if everyone disappeared when they heard that I am a FireDancer. They hate me.

But then I realize that the elves could never abandon their home, even if it meant being threatened by a dangerous individual. Even a FireDancer or whatever couldn't drive the entire elf race completely mad with fear. Why, I'm just a little girl. As far as I know, that is.

The heels of my converse shoes hit the stone floor lightly, a faint echo bouncing into the surrounding woods. Everything is unearthly silent, as if I fell asleep in the library and this is a dream. No, I couldn't be asleep. It feels too real. A dream is blurry and unorganized. Rivendell is the opposite of that, but it seems so beautiful it could be a dream. Of course, I don't know very much about dreams, but I do know that a dream usually means something significant, and that if I am dreaming right now, it will change my life forever. I really don't know.

After walking in circles around the beautiful stone arches of Rivendell, I hear voices. Silky smooth, powerful, and deep. They're the most wonderful voices I've ever heard. They get louder as I walk further into Rivendell, towards the place where I wasn't allowed to go. No one's around to stop me, so I suppose I'll just keep walking. I hear other voices; gruff, angry, and stubborn voices, nothing like the silky ones I heard only a moment ago. Then I hear Strider's voice. And another voice, which sounds close enough to another human's voice. Well, I guess I'm not the only human in this whole place.

I realize that there is a group of people circled around a stone pedestal. It all seems so organized, like a specific government or whatever. When I see several people, breathtakingly beautiful people with pointed ears, I realize that they are the owners of the silky voices. They're elves, I just know it. I quickly hide behind a pillar and peek out at the gathering. Elrond is the only one standing. I see Gandalf in one seat, and Frodo seated beside him, an anxious expression on his face. There's something gleaming on the top of the pedestal, but I cannot tell what it is. Strider is there as well. What's a ranger doing in some sort of really important meeting?

A human stands up. He has auburn hair, reaching to his shoulders, and a thin layer of auburn fuzz is around his mouth. He is dressed almost like he's the prince of the humans or something. I can't tell. "It is a gift," he says in a smooth voice as he stands, addressing the whole group. "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring?"

Mordor? Foes? Ring? What's he talking about?

"Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay… by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy… Let us use it against him!"

Oh, I get it now. This guy is the son of the Steward of Gondor. Wherever the hell _that_ is.

Strider suddenly stands, his piercing gaze burning holes in the auburn-haired person's soul. "You cannot wield it," he says darkly. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has not other master."

At the moment he speaks the word Sauron, it's like a bomb goes off inside my body. I try not to crumple to the floor like a rag doll for fear of being detected. The word echoes with a hissing sting inside my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull like rubber. Outside, I'm spying on an important meeting. Inside, I'm screaming in pain. What is the significance of that word? That word…

_Sauron. Sauron. Sauron._

The auburn-haired man turns and looks at Strider coolly. "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

I try harder than ever to keep from crying out when someone familiar to my eyes stands up all of a sudden. He's the most beautiful, elegant, intense living being I have ever set my eyes on. I can immediately tell by the inhuman beauty that he's an elf. Oh, my… that flowing straight blonde hair… piercing blue eyes… I suddenly feel my face going beet red. _God_, he's so hot!

He suddenly speaks in the most beautiful voice I've ever heard. It is shadowy and smooth, as if it is a soft ocean floor, studded with rainbow corals and intricate shells. "This is no mere ranger," he says to the auburn-haired human, pulling me out of my thoughts. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him you allegiance." Before I can move, the human turns back to Strider. No, I mean Aragorn. Why didn't he tell me his real name before?

Out of the blue, I hear a voice in my head; clear, dark, and beautiful, like the shadowy orange sky of a silent, cloudless twilight. It seems familiar, but I do not know who it is. I close my eyes to see the darkness, and it is then that the voice is clearer.

_That is Legolas,_ the voice says. I realize that it is referring to the gorgeous blonde with the intense cobalt eyes. _I can see that you like him; that is no surprise. It is merely a phase. _

The voice pauses as I listen closely for it. I can feel myself wondering… even desiring to hear that voice again; that beautiful voice of a dark ginger twilight. Could I be falling for only a voice with no face? Before I can answer, it speaks up again.

_Legolas is an elven prince from a far-off kingdom. He is elegant. He has a loyal heart. He is quiet. He seems to be your type._

I want to snap at the voice that it wouldn't know what my type is, but then again, this voice might know everything about me. I can't blame it.

_Oh, and the unnamed human with the auburn hair? He is Boromir. You would do good to remember his name, my dear._

But who are you?

_Please do not ask. I will tell you soon._

And I open my eyes. The voice of the dark ginger twilight disappears.

"Aragorn?" Boromir says disbelievingly, staring at Aragorn as if he's a filthy alley cat. "This is Isildur's heir?" My god, I'm hardly following all these names.

That beautiful voice breaks my thoughts like a fierce ocean wave shatters a sand bank. "And heir to the throne of Gondor." Oh… it's him.

"Gondor needs no king," Boromir sharply says.

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf suddenly says from the other side of the circle. "We cannot use it."

Elrond speaks up. He's been silent nearly this whole time. "You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

…Hell yeah. What else would we do with it?

Suddenly, a dwarf, barely reaching up to my waist, stands up, grabbing his enormous axe. My eyes widen at its astonishing size. "Then what are we waiting for?" the dwarf says excitedly in a gruff voice only fitting for such a stout form.

The dwarf suddenly rushes forward, and the rest of the council jumps in surprise. He swings his axe down on the ring, bent on cracking it in two, but the axe shatters with a deafening crack, which stings my ears. It's all I can do not to cry out. The little creature falls backwards, staring in incredulity at the ring… unharmed. My jaw nearly drops to the ground.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom… only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came," Elrond says darkly. He pauses as I only dare to peek out a little more. I don't care if I'm seen.

"One of you must do this," he says suddenly. I step back.

There is a long pause of confusion. Everyone in the circle just sits there with downcast, hesitant eyes, as if a great dread has descended on them. I can feel it, too. There's something really wrong about that harmless little golden ring. Somehow, I know that it's extremely dangerous, and that Elrond is right. Someone has to destroy it, whether any of us like it or not. It's got to happen. As I think about this, no one moves, and that surprises me. Isn't anyone brave enough to step up and take the challenge?

I'm not scared of an adventure.

I am about to step out of the shadow of the pillar I hide behind, but Boromir addresses the council again, this time in a quiet, hushed voice. "One does not simply walk into Mordor," he says. "Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep… and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust… the very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this."

Yeah, well, I can kind of use fire… I think… so I count as more like a couple dozen. _As if that's significant…_

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed," says the deep ocean voice again. What was his name? Oh. Legolas. That's right. What a beautiful name.

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" says Gimli, the stubborn dwarf from before.

Boromir's voice suddenly rises. "And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

Gimli stands, almost in a leaping motion. I jump. "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" Suddenly, a storm of argument erupts around the circle of stone. I don't understand any of it. It seems as if every race has some sort of grudge on every other race. Why would it be like this? Some of them are shouting in a language that I should understand but do not. I stare at all the angry faces, the shaking fists, the accusatory fingers, and wonder where this is all coming to. I only dare to breathe for fear of being discovered.

"Never trust an elf!" Gimli insists, fighting his fellow dwarves that are holding him back from tackling one of the elves. His face has gone red from rage.

Gandalf suddenly stands, his face angered. "Do you not understand?" he nearly shouts. The council stops arguing and stares at him, some of them still shouting at each other. "While we bicker among ourselves, Sauron's power grows! No one will escape it. You will all be destroyed, your homes burnt and your families put to the sword!"

I suddenly glance at Frodo, my eyes gone wide. He seems to be in pain; he's breathing rapidly, and a sheen of sweat gleams on his forehead. With a huge effort of will, he tears his gaze from the little ring on the stone pedestal. I realize that he's been staring at it this whole time. He suddenly stands and speaks up in a strong, clear voice.

"I will take it!" he says. "I will take the Ring to Mordor."

Another sudden silence like before. The little hobbit looks around the room at the astonished faces. I'm one of them. Wait. Oh, shoot, he saw me!

"Although… I do not know the way," he says, looking at each person, including me. I smile. He means to have companions on his journey.

Gandalf suddenly rises to his feet. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear," he says kindly, placing his hand on Frodo's shoulder. The hobbit looks up at his wizard friend and smiles that cute smile that I haven't seen in days. I can't help but smile as well.

Aragorn steps forward. "If by life or death, I can protect you, I will." He kneels before Frodo in a knightly, noble way. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," says Legolas so suddenly and beautifully that a surge of excitement rushes into my stomach. I can hardly hold it down as I nibble on my fingernails. I don't know what to feel.

"And my axe," says Gimli with a hesitant grin. I like him. He's silly.

Boromir looks at all of them, surprised, and then walks towards Frodo with a funny little grin playing on his face. It seems to me that he's going to join. "You carry the fate of us all, little one," he says to Frodo, and the little hobbit smiles. The man then turns his gaze to Elrond and Gandalf. "If this council is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

Frodo stares in wonder and joy as the greatest fighters in all of Middle-earth stand at his side.

"Here!" says an excited voice from a bush from behind. The bush rustles, and Samwise pops out. Goodness, he's persistent. He crosses his arms and stands beside Frodo. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me."

"No, indeed," says Elrond with a thin smile. "It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

I giggle.

Suddenly, Merry and Pippin, who were spying just like I am, jump up, staring at each other, and they run towards the little posse. They're very excited and the anticipation of the adventure is shining in their eyes.

"Oi!" Merry cries. "We're coming too!"

As the two mischievous hobbits run beside Frodo, Elrond watches in surprise and a bit of annoyance. I silently giggle again at the look on his face.

"You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" Merry says triumphantly.

Time seems to stop for a moment as I analyze the situation in my mind. I feel like stepping out and joining the adventure, but what's in it for me? Even though I can control fire, create fire, and be immune to fire, just going on an adventure and nearly losing my life to a powerful golden ring won't change anything. What would happen if I really do find out why I have this power? Something incredible would happen in my life. I just know it. Could it be that I'm more that I grew up knowing?

It's worth the shot.

"That goes for me too!" I say loudly and clearly as I step out from beneath the shadow of the stone pillar. They all turn and stare at me curiously, which is understandable, considering how nobody really knew I was around. Legolas is looking at me too with those deep ocean eyes, and it is all I can do to sustain my excitement. A smile plays on my face as I proudly strut into the company, mentally dubbing myself part of the gang.

"I got things to find out, you know," I say, grinning and my eyes sparkling.

"What kinds of things exactly, little girl?" Boromir asks me, amused at my courage.

I wordlessly grin, almost deviously. "You'll see."

"Anyway," Pippin begins, "you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission. Quest." He pauses to think. "Thing!"

"Well, that rules you out, Pip," Merry says in a subtle insult. Pippin triple-glances at him.

Elrond thoughtfully surveys the group, taking a moment to look at each and every one of our faces. "Ten companions… So be it. You shall be "the Fellowship of the Ring".

"Great!" Pippin says happily. "Where are we going?"

I smile. So the adventure begins.

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**This was one of the most fun chapters to write. So yeah; Shika now has an epic crush on Legolas! Friendship will soon ensue between them. Eventually it will turn into Legomance. Please stay tuned and let me know what you think! 3333**


	16. 15: I' Tum en' Eregion

Chapter Fifteen: I' Tum en' Eregion (The Valley of Eregion)

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The sun had already ducked below the distant horizon by the time a decision was made on how early my nine new companions and I would leave the next morning. We decided on around 5:30. In the morning. I cannot believe that we would leave that early. The whole day was long and dreary, however much the sun shone. I was tired, and because I got to sleep so late, it will probably be hard for me to wake up. I'm still in the blissful shadows of sleep.

A silky voice suddenly snaps me out of my thick slumber; a voice that resembles a shell-studded ocean floor, surrounded by sky blue waters and smooth, white sand. It calls my name. I've heard it before.

Oh, shoot.

My eyes drowsily open to see a beautiful face staring down at me. It's the same face I saw yesterday and blushed like crazy to hear that smooth ocean voice coming from those perfect lips. And those fiery ocean eyes…

I softly squeal in surprise, quickly sit up, and playfully shove him away. "My _god_, Legolas, don't scare me like that! Not at this ungodly hour!" My fingers unconsciously rub the crust away from my eyes. "You know what, just don't do that. It's kind of awkward. I mean, we just met yesterday."

Legolas is taken aback a little bit by my reaction. "I… I did not mean any harm, Lady Shika," he says meekly, glancing away.

"Just call me Shika," I say with a smile, correcting him. "We can be friends."

Legolas smiles warmly. I can hardly take in the incredible beauty of his smile, and my cheeks begin to smolder from extreme blush. Before I can turn away and silently giggle to myself, something is tossed into my lap. It's a set of travel clothes, consisting of a dark green corset with a matching short skirt, knee-high laced boots, and a light, lacy shirt that's gathered at the shoulders. I assume that this will be my outfit for a while. I quietly thank Legolas, and he leaves.

The outfit hugs my body perfectly and snugly, as if it was made especially for me.

The only thing I take from my previous set of clothes is the red handkerchief that was attached to the front of my sailor school uniform shirt. It is soon tied around my hair, pinning it on the back of my head in a loose, comfortable ponytail. It's the last thing I have now that's from home. I will treasure it as long as I'm here.

Today, I am beginning a new journey. I will travel with nine other individuals to the other side of this world, bound on destroying the enemy's most crucial weapon. We will put our lives at risk by binding ourselves to this weapon, never resting until this world is finally free. And all the while, I will find why I am not who I thought I was. I don't know why I can control fire, but someday soon, I will discover why. I know I'll find out.

It wasn't long after I woke up that I have to rendezvous with the rest of the fellowship at the gate to Rivendell; the place where I saw Legolas for the first time. We will leave in a few minutes.

Elrond soon addresses us. "This is my last word. The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid; neither to cast away the Ring, nor deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save member of the Company and the Council, and only then in gravest need. The others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths, as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy will it be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road," he says with a grave, hesitant smile.

I nod, ready to begin the epic journey to the other side of this world, but before I can take a single step, Elrond steps up to me, gazing deep into my eyes.

"Lady Shika, you must not forget that you are who you are. Not even the most powerful dream can change that. On this journey, whatever you may encounter, you must be strong. Understand?"

I nod. "Yes. I will be strong."

And then we leave, climbing the long, steep path out of the cloven vale of Rivendell. This will most likely be the last time I ever see it. As we walk away, I turn, smile, and wave to Elrond. A small smile plays on his face as he raises his hand as a final farewell.

Not long after our early morning departure, we trek through a land of deep valleys and turbulent waters, a long, unbroken line of mountains shrouded in mist rising sharply to our left. I've never seen such lands. Not on earth, that is. The most I've seen is a huge view of New York City and Central Park, but neither of those are anything like this. It's beautiful here.

Gandalf speaks up suddenly. Knowing he is wise, I listen closely. "We must hold to this course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will be open to us. From there, our road will turn east to Mordor."

None of that made sense to me at all.

By the time the sun is already beginning to dip over the horizon, we decide to bunk down at a cluster of boulders in a vast, beautiful valley called Eregion. We settle there comfortably. Sam soon makes a small campfire, and Frodo sits close beside his friend. The sound of clashing swords fills the air as Aragorn and Boromir give Pippin a little sword fighting lesson. I watch from a large boulder to the side, my arms wrapped around my knees. The little hobbit is actually doing very well.

"Get away from the blade, Pippin," says Boromir. "On your toes. Good, very good… I want you to react, not think."

"Should not be too hard," Sam points out.

Merry commends Pippin for his first-timer skill, and he thanks Merry in response.

I glance around a bit. My curiosity overtakes me as I listen intently to a conversation below me between Gimli and Gandalf. Gimli seems stubborn about something, like most dwarves are, I suppose.

"If anyone were to ask for my opinion, which I note they have not, I would say we are taking the long way round. Gandalf, we can pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome." The old wizard does not respond at first, in hesitance to cut through those mines. I have no idea how huge they could be.

"No, Gimli," he says finally. "I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice." The dwarf growls angrily but quietly, and my attention is drawn back to Boromir and Pippin.

Boromir jumps forward with his blade, catching Pippin by surprise. The little hobbit, for fear of being struck, throws down his short sword, suddenly kicks Boromir in the leg, and playfully lunges at him. He is tackled to the ground, and Merry is soon to follow the little rumble. A giggle escapes my lips at the adorable sight, and Aragorn seems to find it funny as well, smiling as he puffs his long-stemmed pipe. I am almost tempted to join the pile.

A strange hiss suddenly fills the air, snatching my awareness. I quickly stand up as my eyes dart around the crystal clear skies, and I look for something that might have caused the distant hiss. From another boulder not far away, Legolas keeps watch with observant oceanic eyes. I stare uncontrollably at his flawless straight blonde hair, blowing in the gentle wind. For a reason which I have not realized, I have a thin desire from somewhere deep down to reach out and touch those golden locks, but I do not. His face is turned from me, and I see that his eyes are fixed on a distant dark patch in the sky, which darts about in the atmosphere like flying smoke in a stormy wind. I soon stare at it as well.

"What _is_ that?" Sam asks in childlike curiosity.

"Nothing," says Gimli. "It's just a wisp of cloud."

Boromir, now relieved of the two hobbits that previously hurled him to the ground, gazes at the same patch with an anxious expression on his face. "It's moving fast," he mutters, "against the wind."

I suddenly realize that it is not a cloud.

They're wicked black birds.

"Hide!" Aragorn shouts urgently.

The swarm of the birds suddenly moves towards us, and I shriek in surprise and fear. The hobbits dive for cover under the crooks of stones or bushes, two of them snatching their bags to make any evidence of their existence disappear. The others vanish behind cover as well, but I cannot stop staring at the swarm as it flies closer and closer to me, threateningly close, but I do not move. I am standing, my legs feeling like noodles under me. Several of the deadly birds screech and fly towards my face, their red eyes reflecting inside mine. I'm prepared for the worst…

…And then a voice cries out my name, and strong arms wrap around me, pulling me from the boulder into its shadow and in safety. The birds, in the form of a shadow, fly low over us at a great speed, wheeling and circling above. I whimper in fear and curl up in the darkened shade of the stone, my curled fists resting on my rescuer's chest. My mind is pulled from the fearsome momentary nightmare, and I suddenly find myself in the unwavering protection of Legolas. Even in this current state of fear, he still seems so valiant and strong, but he seems somewhat smaller in the boulder's shade. I curl my fingers in between his fingers and cuddle my body as closely as I can to his, waiting in fear for the crows to pass.

Within a moment they wheel away along the currents of the wind, back towards the southern part of the valley. Everyone emerges from their cover, glancing around worriedly. Gandalf staggers to his feet. I find myself still clutching Legolas's hand, even after we crawl out from underneath the boulder.

Hesitantly, I let go.

"Spies of Saruman…" Gandalf mutters worriedly. "The South Passage is being watched."

He turns to look at Aragorn, then turns to the others, including me. When he gestures towards a high mountain pass, I begin to dread what he will say next.

"We must take the pass of Caradhras," he calls to the nine of us.

That pass is full of nothing but snow and stone. How will we survive up there?

My attention is snapped away from the mountain and to my side. Legolas is still there, staring at me. For a single moment, our gazes lock. Neither of us can look away from the oceans of our eyes. My blood rushes to my cheeks, but I don't care. There's something I need to know.

"Why did you save me?" I ask him inquiringly.

"You needed to be."

The beauty of his voice stuns me more than the words. It is in that moment when my cheeks burn so badly that I simply have to turn away. A silent gasp escapes my mouth.

He saved me because I needed to be saved? That makes sense, but he very well could have just gone for cover himself and ignored me. But then again, he probably grabbed me because our position should not be given away, so I can only assume that he is quite smart. But even so, if that wasn't important and the only danger was being killed by the birds, why did he save me? Does he see something about me that I can't even see myself and he's just not telling me?

I don't know if I'll ever find out.

* * *

Several hours later. The skies are bright blue and completely cloudless, leaving the surrounding snow glistening and blinding against the pure sunlight. I occasionally have to cover my eyes with my hand to keep myself from being temporarily sightless by the snow. Sometimes, I wish I had elf eyes like Legolas; he probably doesn't need to protect his eyes. And what's worse is that my limbs are freezing cold. From the knees down, I'm fine because of my snug laced-up boots, but my skirt only reaches to the middle of my thighs, and my sleeves barely cover my shoulders. Even so, it could be a lot worse, I suppose.

Currently, the Fellowship and I are clambering over a gentle mountain slope, covered with snow and stones. Through another shine of the sparkling snow, I see Frodo suddenly stumble on a patch of unstable snow and tumble to the back of the pack. Aragorn stops his fall, and Frodo scrambles to his feet. The first thing he checks for on himself is the little ring around his neck. Panic flows from his eyes when he realizes that the Ring is not there.

I immediately glance around for it to help, and then there it is, gleaming in the snow. Before I can pick it up, I see Boromir snatch it by its thin chain. He stands up, the Ring dangling before his eyes. He is motionless. His eyes are completely transfixed on the Ring.

"Boromir?" I ask, trying to snap him out of it.

He ignores me. "It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing… Such a little thing."

Whoa… He's right.

"Boromir," Aragorn says quietly, "give the Ring to Frodo." His hand suddenly slides to his sword hilt in a movement of self-defense if needed. I glance back at Boromir and the object in his hand, a strange hum emitting from the Ring. As it grows louder, the man's face seems more deeply immersed into the power of the little Ring, and a strange, innocent smile lights up his face.

He snaps out of his trance suddenly, handing the Ring back to Frodo.

"As you wish. I care not," he says. He smiles at Frodo, ruffling his hair, and Aragorn takes his hand off his sword. Knowing that men are easily diverted, I mentally decide to keep my guard up too.

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**Here's the chapter you've been waiting for! I feel very uplifted from your kind reviews and will post the new chapter very soon! Still working on chapter nineteen. PLEASE REVIEW AND STAY TUNED!  
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	17. 16: No' N'uma Quentale Varna

Chapter Sixteen: No' N'uma Quentale Varna (Never Safe)

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An angry, uncontainable swarm of crows race deeper and deeper into the earth, following the endless tunnel made by thousands of orcs in a furious vista of industry. The birds fly past a tall old man dressed in white, a wizard, who stands upon a wooden gantry, overseeing the ongoing progress. His name is Saruman the White. He listens, intently, to the cries of the crows, as if he knows what they say.

"They're trying to escape! They're trying to escape!" the crows scream. "They go through the pass! The snowy pass! There's no way through it for them, they will fail! They will fail!"

A young crow stops flying with the others and perches on a ledge near to Saruman. "There is supposed to be nine, but there are ten! She wasn't meant to join them! She will fail!"

Saruman silently laughs in amusement. "So, Gandalf," the wizard mutters deeply, "you try to lead them over Caradhras. And if that fails… where then will you go? If the mountain defeats you, will you risk a more dangerous road? And there is one in your company who is even more the risk. It does not know of its full potential. But soon it will."

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**I know, very short chapter, but this is all I could get down! I'm mainly going off the lines from the movies and from my own imagination, so this little do-hickey-thingy-majiggy here is just a short piece...  
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**No worries, my darlings! The next chapter is on its way! 333**

**Thanks for reading, guys. Please review!**


	18. 17: Wanwa e' i' Arrna

Chapter Seventeen: Wanwa e' i' Arrna (Lost in the Storm)

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The sunlight is gone. Everything in my mind is screaming that joining the Fellowship was the worst idea I've ever made in my life, and now I am beginning to agree with that. It's the middle of the day, but darkness and whirling snow are all I see. We are nearing the pass that will lead to Mordor so we can get this stupid quest done and over with, and with every step, I know that I am one step closer to going home. However, my dreams are dashed every minute when another blast of icy snow blinds my face. A furious snowstorm has slowed down our journey through a mountain pass called Caradhras. A thin layer of my skin has been torn away from my thighs, arms, and face, leaving my skin red and raw. I can't feel my hands or my ears, and my tongue is beginning to go numb as well. I don't know how much longer I can last. My knees soon give out, and I land on the snow in nothing more than a mess.

Suddenly, a thickly clothed arm snatches me up from the ground, and I feel part of a warm fur cloak wrap around my shoulders. Boromir. He holds me close as if I will blow away in the wind.

"Don't fall behind, love," he shouts to me over the roars of the storm.

I nod, but he barely notices, and we keep walking, one step at a time. The snow reaches all the way to my knees. I don't see how Legolas can prevent himself from falling through the snow. He's barely making any tracks at all. Even so, the most I can do at the moment is keep walking and not lose my grip on Boromir's cloak.

To my surprise, the blinding wind subsides for a fleeting moment, and the screeches of the air are replaced by the eerie, blurred voice of an old man. He seems to be speaking in a language that I can't understand but strangely sounds like I've heard it before. The nine of us that are knee-deep in snow stop walking to listen to the voice. Legolas effortlessly skips ahead to a small ledge of snow where he gazes into the darkened storm clouds. I don't even know why I can hear his oceanic voice over the screaming wind.

"There is a fell voice in the air," he whispers urgently.

Something cold, not snow, drips through me like melting icicles in early spring. By instinct, I know we are in danger, but not of the storm.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf shouts from behind us in sudden realization.

I look up with widened, terrorized eyes to see lightning bolts streaking across the sky, angry thunder rolling through the overcast, and the earth trembling as rock, snow, and breaking chunks of ice fall from unknown points of the sky. I scream in terror.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain, Gandalf!" Aragorn shouts over the noise as everyone else tries to dodge the raining pieces of the peak. "We must turn back!"

Gandalf shouts something back, but I can't hear it over the screeching wind and breaking rocks and ice on the mountainside, as sudden and loud as a delicate china dish carelessly smashed against a wall. The old wizard suddenly raises his staff and chants eerily and loudly into the wind.

"Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho I ruith!"

Those words… I know that language… but I don't know where I've heard it before, like an unnamed song by a well-known music artist that lingers in the back of my mind. The dark voice in the air strengthens, rolling past us like the orbs of furious thunder. A crack of white lightning explodes on the mountainside above us, and we all look up in sudden, helpless horror as a huge snow avalanche thunders down towards us! In panic, the ten of us throw ourselves against the cliff face as the snow crashes onto the narrow ledge. Somewhere along the way, I lose my grip on Boromir, and I'm alone in the storm again. For several moments, I'm completely lost in the whirling tornado, not knowing which side is the mountainside and which the edge is, what is left and what is right, or where anyone is. I'm lost.

And then there is that familiar voice in the air, calling my name in a desperate voice. Although I am distantly aware of it, a familiar pair of strong arms wraps around me and pulls me to safety, away from the avalanche. Even though I cannot see, I know that it's Legolas who saved me for the second time. It's him.

But why is it him?

We are not safe for long, for the snow continues to quickly pile around us, blocking the pass and enveloping us completely in snow. Legolas, tightly clutching my hands, is the first to surface, followed by me being pulled up. I'm shaking non stop. As I look around, I see Aragorn and Boromir frantically digging in the snow for the hobbits, who are pulled out shivering and fearful.

"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir shouts to Gandalf. "Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my City!"

Aragorn protests. "No! The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!"

Isengard. Rohan. Boromir's city. The first must be a dangerous place, and the last two must be safe and not far from each other. I know it now, but am not sure how I knew it. Perhaps it was from a nameless informer in a distant dream from years ago, and now that dream is here to help me in this dark adventure.

"We cannot pass over the mountain," Gimli points out from my side. I almost cry out in surprise when I realize that he has been beside me this whole time. "Let us go through the mines of Moria!"

Gandalf looks concerned. His thoughts seem to be undecided and uneasy. For several moments, I see his expressions change from fear to realization and to numerous considerations leading to nothing but doubt. A discomforting pause falls over the ten of us. I suddenly feel very useless and begin to severely regret ever coming on this quest. Why did I ever leave Rivendell when I could have stayed there in happiness and warmth for the rest of the time that Fate chose me to be in this world? Why did I put myself in danger many times to save the friends I barely knew but wanted so desperately to guard with my very life? Why do I repeatedly question my identity as a perfectly ordinary human girl, knowing deep inside that I am something ugly and powerful?

_Shika, I can answer those questions for you._

Oh. Hello, Ginger Twilight Voice.

_You left Rivendell, protected your friends, and question your identity because you are dangerous. Something inside you has begun to rise, beginning at the night on Weathertop. Like the Witch King said to you, you cannot stop that rising. All you need to do is accept it, and you will easily learn how to harness it. Don't be frightened. Do you understand this?_

Yes, voice. I understand, but I can't help being scared.

_I see. You should not be ashamed to be afraid of something you do not know about. Eventually, you will be granted the knowledge of your power. Do not worry._

So I should just go with the flow and let everything go the way it's supposed to?

_Yes._

Thanks, voice.

And then it's gone. By the time I open my eyes and try once again to warm my shivering form against Legolas' body, I feel a certain confidence simmer inside me like a spice evaporating into a boiling cauldron. I know that I can be the person I was meant to be, just not right now. I'll find out what this power is soon.

Gandalf's voice suddenly breaks the silence.

"Let the Ringbearer decide," he says, and everyone suddenly turns to Frodo. The weight of this decision is weighing heavily upon him. It's either we go Boromir's way to Isengard, which I assume is dangerous, or we go through a system of mines that Gimli knows about called Moria. I don't see why we can't go through there. Perhaps… there's something down there that Gandalf knows is dangerous.

Frodo sighs suddenly, his thoughts shifting in his eyes.

"We will go through the mines," he declares.

Gandalf, although still uneasy, slowly nods. "So be it."

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**I loved writing this chapter. I finished Nineteen and will soon publish Eighteen! Just started Twenty. THIS IS THE FARTHEST I'VE EVER GONE WITH THIS. **

**Please please please stay tuned! Don't worry if this is boring you. It gets better! 333**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	19. 18: I' Ando e'a Moria

Chapter Eighteen: I' Ando e'a Moria (The Gate into Moria)

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A careless splash of watery mud splatters onto my boots from the sudden impact of my heel against the earth. In the faint, distant moonlight and starlight that daringly peeks through misty cracks between the threatening storm clouds, the lake beside us sparkles like a magical scene in a fairy tale. Even in my current state of regret on ever becoming part of the Fellowship, I can muster up enough daydream ability to pretend that I am in a fairy tale, bound to a destiny I do not realize like all heroes and heroines in fairy tales.

But I'm no hero. I'd suck at being one.

Along the far shore of the darkened, sparkling lake, my steps follow the footprints of the rest of the Fellowship as we walk directly below great looming cliffs. They are at least a hundred feet up. Occasionally, I am frightened that the cliffs will collapse on top of us like the avalanche in the pass that we were forced to leave, but then see how strong the stone walls are and how close we are to entering the mines called Moria.

The footing is treacherous and slippery on the narrow strip of green, greasy stones. Just beyond it, though, is a large clearing of just pebbles and a few trees. Gandalf, as if in experiment, touches the smooth rock wall between the lonely trees. The moon suddenly emerges from behind the clouds, illuminating the clearing. Faint lines slowly appear like the slender veins of luminous silver running through the stone. My jaw nearly drops at the glowing piece of stone. It's in the shape of a gate.

"It is Itidin," says Gandalf, and I assume that Itidin is the substance to which the lines were made. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."

The moon seems to rise higher over the distant mountains, and the lines grow broader, clearer, forming a glowing arch of interlacing ancient letters and symbols. I am more awestruck than ever now.

"Gandalf, what do the letters say?" Frodo asks, overcome with curiosity.

"It reads, 'The Door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'"

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry and I ask simultaneously. We glance at each other and momentarily giggle. I am about to jinx him like I did when I was little, but I don't suppose he'd understand that.

"It's quite simple, really!" Gandalf responds in a confident voice. "If you are a friend, speak the password and the doors will open." He pauses to raise his arms as if to cast a spell…

"Annon edhellen," he chants, "edro hi amen!"

Nothing happens. The cliffs tower into the night sky in silence, the wind blows in a shivering tongue, and the ripples of cold ricochet to the rest of us, making us tremble in the chill. The door stands fast as if nothing ever happened. I decide at last to get comfortable if Gandalf is going to be chanting all night.

For long hours that I eventually don't bother to count, Gandalf continues, mumbling spells in his efforts to open the door. Occasionally I steal a glance at Boromir, who is standing to the side and watching me intently. I can almost see his thoughts fluttering behind his eyes in a dizzying dance of his mind. But I can't interpret them into words. And he's still watching me.

Slightly exasperated that Gandalf is taking so long, I turn and look at Sam as he stuffs things into his pack. He watches sadly as Aragorn unsaddles Bill, the little pony that has stuck with us since we left Bree.

"Mines are no place for a pony, even one so brave as Bill," Aragorn whispers reassuringly to Sam, who is gingerly stroking Bill's snout.

"Bye, Bill."

Aragorn sighs and suddenly slaps the pony on the rump, and Bill goes trotting off.

"Don't worry, Sam. He knows his way home."

Sam watches with tears forming in his eyes as Bill disappears into the darkness. Once the pony is out of sight, the little hobbit sets himself on a stone beside me.

"Hey, don't feel bad," I say to him, forcing a smile on my face. "I have a cat back home. Her name is Sugarplum. I really miss her so I know exactly how you feel."

Sam looks up, sniffling. "Thank you, Shika."

Gandalf is still going on with his mystic chants, the only other sound being a splash that suddenly echoes into the chilly night air. Evidently, Merry and Pippin are tossing stones into the lake to pass the time. Black rippling rings slowly fan out like unknown whispers in the night. Pippin is about to throw another stone, but Aragorn suddenly grabs his arm to stop him.

"Do not disturb the water," he whispers ominously. The ranger watches anxiously as the shadowy ripples appear to grow larger as if powered by some dark, nameless magic. He exchanges a look with Boromir, both sharing the same expression, and his hand creeps towards his sword hilt.

Gandalf, discouraged in his vain attempts to open the gate, gives up in despair and sits down beside Frodo. The little hobbit tries to smile at his wizard friend to encourage him to keep going, but Gandalf is not convinced.

Overcome with curiosity, I stand up and peer thoughtfully at the Elvish inscription on the stone. Reading the words over and over again in my head, the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place. My face breaks into a small smile of comprehension.

"It's a riddle," I whisper quietly. "Ingenious!"

Speak, friend, and enter. All you have to do is ake out the commas!

"Gandalf, what's the Elvish word for friend?" I say excitedly, turning towards the old wizard.

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't hesitate to answer my question. "Oh. …Mellon."

I jump in surprise when the rock face behind me silently divides in the middle and the two great doors, still glowing from the pale blue lights of the night, swing outwards, revealing empty blackness deeper than the night itself. My glee from solving the riddle is dashed to pieces by the frightening, menacing darkness that we have no other choice but to enter. I silently gulp in nervousness as I take a step forward. The rest of the Fellowship steps warily into the darkness of Moria, which is a dank cavern with a high ceiling and winding steps leading deeper into the mountain. I wonder if we will be able to breathe down there.

I am completely oblivious to the sounds of the water stirring behind us…

My short skirt slightly twirls in a circular motion as I quickly turn and see Legolas coming up beside me. Out of instinct in my fear, I latch myself onto him by curling my trembling fingers around his arm and pressing my cheek to his shoulder, locking my gaze to the stone floor.

"Keep close to me, Legolas," I whisper to him. "I'm scared."

Legolas, unsure of what to say, seems a little bit surprised at first but soon adapts to my touch. Within a moment I feel one of his graceful hands reassuringly wrapping over one of mine. In a silent, subtle way, he's telling me not to be frightened. I already feel safer around him.

"So, master Elf," says Gimli suddenly, ruining the moment for me, "you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves; roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin… And they call this a mine." He snorts indignantly. "A _mine_!"

Quietly, I giggle to myself at Gimli. He's absolutely adorable, although I know he wouldn't like that if I said so.

The darkness of the shrouded chamber is pushed away all of a sudden by a distinct, spheric glow from Gandalf's staff that bursts into a pale blue light. I flinch in surprise, but not by the light. It's the floor.

Oh, my god.

Countless skeletons of dwarves are strewn about, clearly the remains of a battle that ended with no one left alive. The old, rusting armor and shields are peppered with roguish axes and stinking arrows. Likely, their tips were dipped in poison just before the battle to kill anything it touched. Those arrows are everywhere.

"This is no mine," Boromir says grimly. "…It's a tomb!"

"Oh…" Gimli whispers, his voice growing weak from shock. "No… no, no…!"

Legolas suddenly yanks one of the poisoned arrows out of the skeleton nearest to us. He peers at it thoughtfully for merely a moment before his oceanic eyes fill with realization. The word I hear coming from him is barely over a whisper.

"Goblins."

Instantly, I let go of my protector and light a little flame in my hand. If the rest of the Fellowship will eventually know of my power, now is the time. Everyone else readies their weapons and begins to back away towards the entrance. For a moment I forget that we came to these mines to find our way to Mordor to destroy the One Ring. My only motive now is to protect my friends.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir insists, clutching his sword in one hand and his shield in the other. "We never should have come here!"

"Gandalf, he's right! We must go to Rohan!" I say quickly, trying to convince the old wizard that this is the only way to go.

But before Gandalf can speak up, Frodo is suddenly pulled to the ground as if a tree root came up out of the earth and wound itself around the little hobbit. Only it's not a tree root. It's a long, sinuous, slimy tentacle, and it's wrapped around Frodo's ankle and is dragging him towards the lake at a frightening speed. Frodo cries out as Aragorn and Boromir rush forward to try and save him. The ranger, in a daring motion likely to kill him, severs the tentacle holding Frodo and pulls him to safety as Boromir recklessly hacks at the other writhing limbs.

The brief battle seems to be over. I breathe a sigh of relief and let the fire in my hand go out but do not take my gaze away from the dark lake that still deceivingly sparkles in the faint starlight. Something still seems to be ominous and evil about those dark waters.

I seem to be right, for at least twenty more tentacles ripple out of the lake as a horrible, frightening monster lashes out at us from the boiling water. Again, the creature seizes Frodo and pulls him to the lake, and the poor little hobbit is flung into the air as the Fellowship weakly battle the creature. My rage and panic make the fire in my hands spike again, and I shoot a fireball straight at the monster's mouth where I assume it's the weakest. Being soaking wet, the fire does not affect it at all. My panic overcomes my anger as the fire rises even more, fueled by my fierce emotions.

Not giving up very easily, I shoot several more fireballs at the monster, the sounds of the powerful blasts echoing over the cliffs and beyond. At last, one of my balls of fire melts a tentacle to a pile of icky mush, and in pain, the creature releases Frodo. The hobbit safely falls into Boromir's arms.

"Into the Mines!" Gandalf shouts, and everyone except for me and Legolas rush through the gate. The elf quickly draws an arrow from his quiver and sets it to his bow, gesturing for me to light the tip with my fire. In response, I flick a flame, small yet deadly, onto the arrowhead. Before I can blink even twice, the monster is screeching in pain at the flaming arrow that Legolas shot into its head. Seeing the opportunity to escape, he grasps my hand and pulls me away, retreating into Moria as many coiling arms seize the large doors.

With a shattering echo, the creature rips the beautiful stone doors away, creating a rock slide that crashes down the cliff face. I lock my arms around Legolas and scream in fright, not knowing what else to do. In a matter of seconds, boulders and pebbles seal the doorway, confining us to the pitch blackness of Moria. My screams subside, but I don't let go of him.

Silence spreads across the ten of us until a faint light rises from Gandalf's staff, throwing an eerie light across the old wizard's face. I blink several times from the brightness of it even though it is so faint.

"We now have but one choice," he whispers ominously, "…we must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard… there are older and fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world."

And then we begin the journey, starting by crossing a precarious bridge above deep mine workings that seem to be abandoned and left to rot into nothing. The only sounds are our footsteps, our breathing, and the panicked hysteria in our heartbeats. Gandalf, with his staff's light, leads the way.

"Quietly, now," he reminds us. "It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence will go unnoticed."

For fear of falling down the shaft and to my certain death, I tightly latch onto Legolas again and refuse to let go. He wraps his hand around mine just like before to gently reassure me that everything will be okay.

But at this rate, I'm not even sure if he's right.

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**Hello readers! I'm very sorry that this one took so long to get uploaded, but I couldn't get internet on my laptop for a while because something's wrong with the wi-fi. BUT I am in a different place and the wi-fi is working here, so here I am! :D**

**I hope you liked this chapter. The next one will be uploaded very soon!**

**Please let me know what you think! 333333**


	20. 19: Gorgorath e' i' Mori

Chapter Nineteen: Gorgorath e' i' Mori (Terror in the Dark)

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The mines are so dark that I can't remember what time it is anymore. Could it still be night, or perhaps early morning? Afternoon of the next day? Or have we been here for more than a mere two days? I cannot tell, for in the dark every other sense becomes stronger and your inner clock becomes twisted and confused. It's like those nights when there is a raging storm outside and the rumbling of the thunder and the cracking of the lightning refuses to let you sleep. It's on those nights that I sit up in my bed and try to calm myself by reading books, and it tends to become a very effective sedative, but it does not quiet the storm. The mines here are almost just like those nights, only, even worse, there is no sound. Only our footsteps and our frightened, beating hearts.

Before I know it, the Fellowship, including me, are continuing our journey across Moria; up a steep stairway made of crumbling stones. Around us is another makeshift cemetery for dwarves; despoiled graves with dwarf skeletons strewn about, draping over the steps and occasionally breaking off and tumbling down. Strange symbols, clearly done by goblins, are scrawled on monuments in dried dwarf blood. The musty, black atmosphere around us feels very sinister, as if it is watching our every move. Even though I am holding onto someone I can trust, I don't feel safe.

Gandalf, leading us at the front of the pack, suddenly stops when we reach the top of the stairway. Once the rest of us are at the top, I see that we are at a fork in the tunnels. The path abruptly splits into three passages, each disappearing into dark, silent tunnels. The old wizard pauses, frowning.

"I have no memory of this place," he mutters sadly.

My heart droops. A thought suddenly occurs to me that makes me panic inside. We might be lost.

The past seems to repeat itself as Gandalf sits, staring intently at the three tunnel mouths in front of him and appearing to be in some kind of trance. Just like before, the rest of us nervously wait as Gandalf tries to decide which path is the right one. Hours pass.

"Are we lost?" Pippin suddenly pipes up to no one in particular.

"No," replies Merry. "I don't think we are. Now shush; Gandalf's thinking."

"Merry!" Pippin whispers loudly.

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

I laugh quietly. "That's not very important right now, Pip," I whisper to him, and the little hobbit simply shrugs.

Frodo suddenly approaches Gandalf, a look of worry on his face. "There's something down there," he whispers darkly.

"It's Gollum," Gandalf says quietly. "He's been following us for three days."

I repeat the name; a sinister, twisted word only said by monsters. "Gandalf, who is Gollum?"

"He is an evil creature corrupted by the power of the One Ring. He desires nothing more than to have it back for himself… We must be careful if he continues to trail us."

"He escaped the dungeons of Barad-dur?" Frodo asks disbelievingly.

"Escaped," Gandalf mutters, "…or was set loose. And now the Ring has drawn him here. He will never be rid of his need for it. He hates and loves the Ring, as he hates and loves himself. Sméagol's life is a sad story."

"Sméagol?" I repeat, as if he is talking about a completely different person.

"Yes… Sméagol he was once called… before the Ring came to him, before it drove him mad."

Silently, I creep to the edge of the cliff and peer down, expecting some hairless, skinny monster to jump up at me. But nothing happens. "The poor creature…" I whisper to myself.

"It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance," I hear Frodo mutter grimly.

"Pity?" Gandalf repeats. "It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo?"

The hobbit frowns and shakes his head.

"Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment… Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many."

Sighing, I sit down beside Frodo, who is still sitting beside Gandalf.

"I wish the Ring had never come to me," Frodo says suddenly, his sad gaze staring out into empty atmosphere. "I wish none of this had happened."

"I know, Frodo," I respond, wrapping one of my arms around his shoulder and gently pulling him close. "I wish that too. I wish that everything stayed the way it was."

Gandalf smiles. We both look up at him. "So do all who live to see such times," he says warmly, "but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." There is a note of finality in Gandalf's voice… "There are other forces at work in this world, you two, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring. In which case, you, Frodo, also were meant to have it… and that is an encouraging thought."

The brightness in Gandalf's eyes makes me smile, and I know he's right.

Suddenly, the old wizard stands up, a spark of remembrance sparking in his eyes. "Ah!" he says. "That is the way!" He points at the right hand tunnel, and the rest of us stand up.

"You remembered?" I ask him excitedly.

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down there. If in doubt, Lady Shika, always follow your nose!" And he laughs cheerily, despite our awful predicament.

As we warily pass under the arched doorway into a black and empty space, Gandalf pauses. "Let me risk a little more light," he says thoughtfully. He taps his staff, and for a brief moment a light blazes like a silent flash of lightning before the rumble of thunder. Great shadows, whispering in fear, spring up and flee.

"My friends," the old wizard says, "this is the great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf!"

I gasp. The whole Fellowship stares at the brief sight of a vast roof, far above our heads, upheld by many might pillars made of stone. Before then stretches a huge, empty hall with black walls, polished to a glistening darkness and smooth as glass.

"Well, there's an eye opener and no mistake!" Sam says quietly in a surprised tone.

Ahead of us, at one side of the hall, two glorious wooden doors have been smashed to bits. Black, poison-tipped arrows are embedded in the timbers, most likely to get inside the room beyond. Two skeletons, obviously of goblins, lie in the doorway. Gimli, gasping, rushes ahead in a stubbornly slow but panicked run.

"Gimli!" I cry out, determined to keep my friends safe.

The dwarf rushes into another empty chamber, lit with a narrow shaft of sunlight, beaming in from a small hole near the ceiling. Dwarf and goblin skeletons are piled high in disgusting, bloodstained piles in various places around the room. In the far corner, there is a stone walled well. The shaft of light falls directly onto a stone table in the middle of the room; a single block of pale gray stone, roughly four feet high, topped with a big slab of white stone. Gimli falls to his knees, but I don't know why. He begins to sob in sudden grief.

I walk over to accompany Gandalf, who is quietly reading an inscription of runes that are carved onto the white stone slab.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fudin, Lord of Moria.'"

"He's dead?" I ask him, desolately looking up at his wrinkly face.

"Yes. It is as I had feared," he whispers darkly. I turn away and wonder what this all could mean. This means that not only are we alone and rather unwelcome in these darkened, tomb-like mines, but we are in danger. If the goblins killed that many dwarves and left none alive, they are sure to be back when they realize that living creatures are still in the mines.

Gandalf carefully lifts the rotting remains of a book from the stone white slab. He blows on it, brushing the piled-up dust away in a cloud of filth. The cover and the pages have been slashed and stabbed, and they seem to be covered with the writer's blood. I'm too scared to think that it might be an unfinished novel that one of the dwarves was happening to be writing in when the goblins attacked. Time having taken its toll on the book, the pages crack and break as Gandalf opens it.

"'They have taken the Bridge and the Second Hall'," he reads, and I realize that it is not an unfinished novel, but a journal. "'We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes… drums in the deep… We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. Will no one save us? They are coming'."

Oh, my god. The goblins are still here.

I settle myself on the ground, my arms wrapped around my knees. Faintly, I hear Legolas whisper to Aragorn that we can't stay here. I understand him, but something else goes through my mind that makes me want to wake up more than I ever have wanted before.

Is there even a way out of Moria?

Pippin, unnerved and afraid, backs away nervously, still holding Gandalf's staff and hat that the old wizard handed to him just minutes before. The little hobbit stumbles against the well behind him, sending a precariously balanced skeleton tumbling in with a quiet clatter. Merry suddenly reaches out and grabs Pippin before he falls. All ten of us freeze in stunned silence as the armored skeleton clatters down the deep well, echoing loudly. I stand up suddenly.

Gandalf turns angrily on Pippin, still holding the ancient book in his hands.

"Fool of a Took!" the wizard hisses. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

The room falls silent. I know that Pippin has always been a clumsy, mischievous one, but Gandalf shouldn't have gone so hard on him. I try to give the little hobbit a reassuring smile that Gandalf is just kind of stressed and is no surprise that he exploded at Pippin. Pippin doesn't react much to my silent encouragement, but I didn't think it could do much in the first place.

Suddenly, a low, rolling boom, much like an explosion, rises from the depths around us. They grow louder with every passing moment, as if the caverns of Moria were turned into a vast drum.

_Boom. Boom._

In echo, a great horn blasts nearby. Other sounds answer. Millions of pairs of feet running as if for their lives. Harsh cries mixed with angry hisses. I suddenly glance at Frodo's belt, and am shocked to see a cold blue glow emanating from the scabbard of his sword that's called Sting. I softly cry out his name, and he unsheathes it.

"Frodo, why is the blade glowing blue?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

The hobbit looks up at me with fear in his eyes. "It does that whenever certain creatures are near."

_Boom. Boom._

"Orcs!" Legolas says darkly.

Aragorn suddenly turns to the Hobbits. "Get back! Stay close to Gandalf," he says firmly. "You should as well, Shika."

Defiantly, I light a flame in my hand that reflects in my eyes as an angry inferno. "I can fight!"

"You would be safer if you do not use that fire."

"Who cares about me?" I snap back at the ranger, the flame beginning to rise from my fury. "I just want to keep you guys safe! Is that too much to ask, or do you still see me as just a child trying to get home?"

Aragorn says nothing, but he looks at me with a puzzled look on his face. His emotions are twisting around in his eyes, as if he wants to tell me something but cannot convert his thoughts into words. I understand inside that there are certain things he can't tell me yet, but something deep inside me wants nothing more than to find out what exactly those things are that they refuse to tell me.

Boromir and the ranger grab a bunch of old weapons and boards to wedge the doors shut tight enough to keep us safe for the time being. Boromir suddenly catches sight of something from between the boards, and he turns to Aragorn with shock in his eyes.

"Well, they have a cave troll," he says with an aggravated sigh.

I tenderly hold the flame in my hands. "How are we going to stop them? That barricade won't hold for long," I say quietly, not sure if anyone will answer.

"Let them come!" Gimli yells, snatching up two rusty dwarf axes and leaping onto the stone slab. "There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

I smile at his courage, but wonder inside if it will get us killed.

_Boom. Boom._

No. We won't die. My enemies will come, and they _will_ burn.

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**Here's the next chapter! I'm so sorry it took so long. Please review! 3333**


	21. 20: N'uma Kalina

Chapter Twenty: N'uma Kalina (No Light)

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The flame in my hand twists around my flesh in the way that only it knows how to do. My anger feeds the flames and makes them burst and spark. Another flame is lit in my other hand, both equally sparking and gleaming. I bare my teeth, as if in a snarl, and once again feel my canines grow into points. My fangs have returned, but I am not afraid. I know that in this moment, I can contribute greatly to the battle which is about to commence. This can happen, even though I do not know the full extent of my power just yet. Just not yet.

…Now!

The heavy wooden doors, vainly barricaded with old boards and weapons, burst open in a thin shower of splintered wood fragments, and seeing their perfect opportunity, several dozen goblins charge into the tomb, screeching angrily, followed by an enormous cave troll. My eyes widen in horror, but my fire does not falter. In response, I let out a shout and release the raging fireball in my hand, which explodes into the crowd of my enemies. A few of the goblins die, but there are at least seventeen left. I decide to let down the fire and use my fangs for once, if I really can use them at all.

As Gimli buries his axe in a goblin helmet and Aragorn slashes at several goblins, I leap onto a nearby ledge and let out a screech as I pounce from the stone ridge onto the mass of ugly creatures. The movement, I realize, is frighteningly similar to a cat. My fangs dig into the stinky flesh and rip at it until I can taste the bone. A normal person would be terrified that I could do such a terrible thing, but I'm not scared. Strangely, the fact that I attack things like an animal does not seem odd to me. It's as if I've always done it.

With a furious kick, I bring down another goblin. Even after it is dead, I tear at it with… my fingertips? And the goblin's blood splatters out of its torn skin, splashing on my face and staining my clothes. I can almost feel my ears being laid back like a cat's ears and a cat tail fluffing up in anger. My furious yowls are heard throughout the mines, striking fear into every creature that hears it. Even my friends.

But I'm not afraid, especially not of myself. This power is wonderful, even beautiful, so fascinating and so perfectly uncontrollable. The Witch-King and the Ginger Twilight Voice were right. I am someone that has unlimited power, used so I can help Frodo in his quest. Everything inside and around me is either covered in its own blood or on fire, and it feels wonderful. I feel superior and incredibly powerful. The feeling is almost addicting as the creatures around me continue to die, their screeches distantly echoing in my ears in a way I've never heard before. One cry of pain almost seems different from the rest, and several drops of blood taste different than the goblin blood, but I barely pay any mind. In this moment, I know that I am a FireDancer. Whatever that may be, I am one of them, and I love this power. It's beautiful and ugly at the same time, creating me into a both sanctified and evil creature.

But it feels… normal to me.

It's as if I've always been a… _monster _like this.

I suddenly stop. The moment is over.

I realize that I've already used my fire without even knowing it, burning the shredded goblin corpses to a blackened crisp around me. Even some of the stones are burning. Looking up with wild eyes, I see that all the goblins have been defeated, most of them either bitten, clawed at, or burned by me. Even the cave-troll was killed, evidently by an arrow that Legolas shot into its head, taking its life instantly. Reeking goblin blood drips from my fingertips and my jaw, staining my fangs. Around me is a circle of the corpses, some of them still on fire. None were left alive, which proves that we are safe for the time being, but…

…But what happened? It's as if I went mad and lost control over my power. Staring down at my hands, I see that there are… there are claws where my fingernails should be. It's as if the ends of my nails grew into sharp tips and curled over ever so slightly. Claws.

I let out a panicked gasp and collapse to my knees, my whole body gone weak. The realization of my true identity finally sinks inside me, and it does not give me relief that I finally know; it's scaring me.

I'm a monster.

Oh, my god. _I'm a goddamned monster._

Covering my face with my hands, a terrified sob escapes my mouth. I don't even care if more blood is smudged onto my face. The tears are already flowing now and beginning to wash the blood away from my skin, leaving me in a mess. I can already see my friends now, staring at me in fear, and backing away to leave me in my own darkness. Even if they do, I will understand.

"Oh, dear Valar…" Gandalf whispers. And I know he's looking at me.

I sob again. With my eyes still squeezed shut, someone draws my hands away from my face and begins to wipe away my tears. My fangs dig into my lips as I desperately try not to cry, but it is in vain. The knot in my throat can't come out. The hands that are holding mine let go of my bloody fingers and wrap around my shoulders, pulling me close. When I open my eyes I realize that it's Legolas. His hand is running over my hair, smoothing the wild chestnut locks down and soothing my panic. Another gasp comes from me and I accept his hold. His touch is sweet and gentle, almost like the touch of an angel, as he calms me down while staying silent.

When I look up at his face, a faint smile is playing on his perfect lips. I suddenly realize that a trickle of blood is falling from a deep scratch on the side of his face. The scratch mark looks familiar, and the blood smells familiar…

Oh god. I hurt him.

That was _me_.

In my moment of power and madness, I didn't even know that I hurt one of my friends. I was so lost in my own fire and my own powers that I could not see anything around me but the blood and the flames. And it was so beautiful while it lasted…

_How could I have been so damn stupid?_

"Oh, my god… Legolas, I am so sorry! I… I hurt you!" My words come out in gasps and whimpers, barely audible at all. My fingers reach up to touch the scratch, and when I do he winces ever so slightly. It must be infected or else it wouldn't have hurt him that much.

"It's all right," he says reassuringly. "It will heal soon."

And then he closes his eyes and leans in, planting a gentle kiss on my bloodstained cheek. It was as if to silently say that everything will be okay. And the words are so beautiful.

I look up at the other eight members of the Fellowship, and they're all looking at me. A few are horrified, a few are anxious, but the rest are sympathetic. I expect Pippin to be terrified of me, but to my surprise, he actually walks up to me, smiles, and gently rubs my shoulder as if to say that I'm still part of the Fellowship of the Ring. I'm still their friend, even after that wonderful moment of fire.

My tears are beginning to stain Legolas' shirt as I press my face into his shoulder and cry. I can't let anything like that happen ever again, not while we're still in so much danger as it is. I refuse to let that happen again. With all my will power, I will keep my friends safe.

Even if it kills me.

_Boom. Boom._

The sound of the drums rings out again throughout the mines, making us all look up. Gandalf looks around ominously, as if searching for the source of the sound, and then he turns to us with a very dark look on his face. Something cold drips through me like melting ice.

"We must go to the Bridge of Khazad-dum."

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**Here we go. This was one of the best chapters to write, although the title took trouble to translate. I hope you like this chapter!  
**

**Please review! 333**


	22. 21: Imya a N'ataya En

Chapter Twenty-one: Imya a N'ataya En (Through a Different Gaze)

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No matter how hard I try, I cannot look away from her. The goblin blood has dried on her skin in crusts, and she tries to scratch it off with her claws, which only cuts open her skin and pastes a new layer on the crusted blood. It is on her face, her arms, her hands, her clothes, even her delicate chestnut hair. She seems desperate to get it off. During the battle in the tomb, something grew on her; a pair of cat ears to replace her human ones, and a cat tail. She told me herself that it feels normal to her, as if she's always had them, and that she's beginning to become afraid of herself, especially in this new form.

I don't want to be afraid of her. I saw her in that moment, when she could see nothing but the blood, the fire, and the powers. She could not even recognize her own friends, even when I tried to snap her out of that terrifying moment of flame. The dark aura of evil energy was surrounding her as she clawed at the goblins with fire and smiled through her bloody fangs; I saw it, and I was afraid of her.

I didn't want to be, and I especially don't want to now.

I know she needs protection and comfort; she is frightened that she can do such horrible things and desires nothing more than to know that she is safe. I can see it in her dark blue eyes. That beautiful pair of eyes used to sparkle and laugh in the dappled sunlight, but now, in the shadows of Moria, there is nothing but sadness and fear. And there is that dark aura that still clings to her flesh as if for dear life, and it doesn't make me afraid of her. It makes me afraid _for_ her.

Shika was so beautiful when I first saw her in Rivendell. Her strange outfit made no difference to how stunning her face was; expressive blue eyes with long eyelashes, a gentle and bright smile, and flowing chestnut hair that glimmered in the sun. Her cheery voice and her untouchable gumption caught me by surprise when she became a member of the Fellowship and dared to join this dangerous quest.

At that moment when she first caught my eye, she seemed as petite as a hobbit, as stubborn as a dwarf, as elegant as an elf, as reckless as a man, as powerful as a wizard, and as beautiful and dangerous as a FireDancer itself. Where I come from, FireDancers are legendary creatures of unimaginable power and a horrifying parentage. No one who still lives has ever seen one before, but they live on in our words. All we know about them is that they are dangerous and very deceiving creatures. Shika's heart is the very image of a FireDancer. That worries me terribly. I can't imagine that such a beautiful girl like Shika would be such an ugly creature of fire…

In the time lapse that we have known each other, I noticed that she is deeply attracted to me, although I am not quite sure why. I do know that I am attracted to her, but I don't know if I should tell her. This feeling is very new to me.

There is just something about her that I feel very attracted to. Something in her smile and her laughing eyes. Even now, when there is nothing in her eyes but darkness, I can still see a beautiful heart that has not fully blossomed. She does not truly know who she is, and neither I, but I do know that I will be there for her as she finds her true identity. I know that she is from another world, and I know that she is not my race, but she is a living creature. She will not be alone.

Gandalf is leading the Fellowship back into the vast Dwarrowdelf chamber, lighting the way with the glowing stone inside his staff. Shika has been holding onto me tightly since we left the tomb, even though we are moving quickly.

"Legolas, please don't let go," she says desperately, her claws digging into my shirt. But I don't mind. "I'm scared. I don't want to be alone…"

"I'm going to stay by you," I say to her reassuringly, holding her weak body up with my arm. It seems as if in that fight, she lost all of her energy and is struggling to stay standing. And yet she is still active enough to be anxious, alert, and violently shaking in fear. She is more afraid of herself than everything around her.

The ten of us hurry towards a distant door, but a thousand screeches fill the air, stopping us in our tracks. Thousands of goblins begin to scuttle down the massive pillars around us like cockroaches, swarming around the chamber. Shika's eyes widen and are filled to the brim with fear when she sees the overwhelming goblin army that is quickly rushing towards us. I can tell that she wants to use her fire to ward them off, but she is too afraid. Within moments, we are surrounded.

Suddenly, a deafening roar fills the air. A fiery, angry light dances down the hallway, casting eerie shadows on the pillars and the polished walls of black glass. The goblins, along with us, freeze in terror. They scatter, backing fearfully away from the approaching beast of fire and shadow. The creatures melt into the darkness. For the time being, we are safe, but very afraid.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asks, an ominous tone in his voice.

Just as suddenly as the goblins came and went, a huge shadow, surrounded by flame, falls across the hall. The ground shakes under us. An unearthly sound reaches my ears…

"It is a Balrog," Gandalf whispers quietly, "a demon of the ancient world! This foe is beyond any of you!" He turns to us, his eyes gone dark. "Run! Quickly!" he shouts urgently.

Shika keeps looking behind as the Balrog, a massive, fiery creature, rises from the chasm. It is a great man-beast with a mane of flames, a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire in one hand, in the other a whip. The girl that clings to me stares at it; the flames reflecting in her dark blue eyes, making them look no longer blue. Her eyes hold curiosity and some wild form of darkness I have never seen in her before. With every moment she stares at it, the dark aura grows to a frightening shade of fiery orange mixed with black. She doesn't let go of me, but it seems to me as if she thinks she can fight the Balrog. Both are creatures of fire in very different forms.

But I won't let her, even if she can defeat it. I have to protect her.

Aragorn leads us on to the top of a dizzying, steep stairway. Gandalf follows weakly, leaning heavily on his staff. "Lead them on, Aragorn," he says to the ranger. "The bridge is near."

The ranger hesitates.

"Do as I say; swords are no more use here," Gandalf mutters.

Suddenly, Shika lets go of me and speaks up, puffing up her chest and curling her fingers into tight fists. "Swords are no use, but what about fire?" she says with determination in her voice.

As if the supernatural powers heard her, two sparking orbs of flames materialize around her fists. The flames reflect in her darkened eyes. Slowly but surely, the flames begin to grow, and she smiles, her eyes still dark and her fangs still glistening.

Before I can stop it, the words have already come out of me.

"Shika, no!"

I gently but quickly snatch her wrist and look into her eyes. The flames go out, and so does the darkness inside her. She looks up at me with confusion and even anger, as if to ask why I put out her fire. The fear in my voice cannot be stopped.

"Please, Shika. I don't want you to lose control again."

The girl nods, understanding being revealed inside her gaze as she bites down on her lip.

Mere seconds later, the Fellowship race down the stairway. Shika, in her haste, stumbles over a few loose stones in the steps. I firmly hold her up. Just ahead of us, Aragorn picks up Frodo and leaps with him across a gaping chasm in the steps. The ranger jumps back over and is about to throw Gimil over, but the dwarf stops him.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" he insists, and jumps over himself.

There is another chasm in the stairway ahead, wider than the last one. I hesitantly let go of Shika and leap over the gap, safely landing on the other side and gesturing for Gandalf to follow. Shika is the next to jump, and her newly discovered cat reflexes assist her in a graceful landing. However, she stumbles a bit and almost tumbles over the edge, but I catch her almost out of instinct. Her panicked gasps are all I hear as she holds onto me tightly. I know she's afraid.

The Balrog suddenly smashes through the wall behind us and spreads its vast, demonic wings. I look behind us and try to hide my fear. Normally I would not be frightened, but this creature is unlike anything I have ever seen.

No, I have seen it. In Shika. In that moment.

I suddenly look at her, and she looks back at me. "Shika, you must promise me that you will try to never lose control again, all right? Please. You must be safe."

The girl nods quickly. "Okay. I promise. I have to be strong."

I dearly hope so, Shika.

* * *

**So yeah this is from Legolas' POV. I decided to have some more variety so here it is. So much fun to write! Please please please let me know what you think! I would love to hear from you! 3333**


	23. 22: Anoron en' i' Yuulas

Chapter Twenty-two: Anoron en' i' Yuulas (Dawn of the Embers)

* * *

I know that I can stop it. The Balrog and I are both creatures of flame; we create and control them. But I'm not always on fire from the inside out, and I don't have dragon wings like it does. Because the fire is my friend and helps me control my power, I know that I can defeat the Balrog and thus keep my friends safe. That is, for as long as we are in Moria.

But I made a promise. I won't break it.

The flames, spitting out from fissures in the darkened stone floor of the hall, are naturally attracted to me, all because of the fire that's already inside. Only minutes ago, I lost control of the power that I was no longer afraid of. Now I am more afraid of it than ever as of that moment. Legolas told me that he is afraid that I'll lose control again, and I made a promise that I'd try to keep my power on a leash. But now that the sparks of fire are latching themselves onto my flesh and curling around it like a lover's fingers, I don't know if I'll be able to keep that promise, even though I try. It seems as if this power was always here, and even if I don't use it, it will still come out. Perhaps it is the fire's pity for my inability to control it, so the flames make me use that power to help me keep it sustainable. What I do know is that if you leave something powerful isolated for a long amount of time, its energy grows to an uncontrollable state. I have to trust the flames, however menacing they may seem.

I'm tagging behind the Fellowship, stumbling even though my cat tail enables more balance for me. Perhaps it is the rough stones that are strewn about. The ten of us madly race towards a slender bridge of stone, without a rail, at the far end of the hall. All of us make it over, but I, being the last one over, look back over at the fiery man-beast that followed us to the bridge.

We stare at each other for a moment. The Balrog's flames reflect in my eyes, beckoning, looking so beautiful and dangerous at the same time. The fire does not dance on it as it would on me; it reluctantly curls around it as if this fire is the slave of the Balrog, serving its every command with no question. I hate to see such beautiful flames in captivity when I would treat them just like a lover.

It is then that I know what to do.

Before I can stop myself, I'm already walking back. Time seems to slow down and twist into a million strings of seconds and minutes as my eyes begin to darken from the flames that burn inside. A voice is suddenly heard in my head, the same one that sounds like a ginger twilight.

_ Yes, Shika. You _can _defeat this creature of flame with your own fire. I understand that you love your friends and will do anything to keep them safe, especially Legolas. Am I right, my dear?_

Yes, Voice. You are right.

_And you like him. Correct?_

…Yes. I do. I like him. I like him a lot. Somehow I can feel that we're attracted to each other, perhaps as something a little more than friends. Even so, I want to protect him so much. I need to keep him safe, and I think he feels the same way about me. I can tell. All I want is to protect my friends in any way, and I know that it is in my ability. And I do know that in this moment, I can save them from this fearsome creature that is beyond any of their power.

I can save them with the power that I still do not understand, but can still use for the greater good.

When I reach the center of the bridge of Khazad-dum, the Balrog roars and puts one foot on the bridge and stretches to its full height, its dark fiery wings spreading from wall to wall. I am but a tiny figure compared to it, balanced gracefully on the narrow bridge with my arms loosely hanging by my sides and one foot right in front of the other. My eyes show nothing but the flame that's inside. I am distantly aware of the voices of my friends as they cry out my name, trying to call me back to where it's safe. And I hear Legolas' beautiful voice, screaming my name desperately. But I do not care.

All I know is that in this moment, I understand my power.

A smile spreads across my face. A smile of dark determination and pure, blinded ecstasy. I can almost hear the ginger twilight voice smile as well.

_Congratulations, Shika Nimnaur. You have found your identity._

_ You are a FireDancer._

The flames, already bursting from my open hands, twirl around me in a sparking tornado of fire. I can feel everything in me now; the long, powerful wings desperately tearing out of my shoulder blades as if they have waited for thousands of years to emerge, the feathered tail emerging from my lower back to accompany my feline tail, my hair changing color from light brown to a burning shadowy scarlet, and two dark red scars burning down my eyes all the way to my jaw line, just like I have seen so many times before in those nameless dreams of an identity I never knew, but now I know who she is. Me.

When I open my eyes again at last, they are no longer the stormy blue I grew up with. They are burning with the beautiful and dangerous colors of fire.

Now the embers inside will rise, just like the dawn.

The End

"_So give me reason to prove me wrong_

_To wash this memory clean_

_Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes_

_Give me reason to fill this hole_

_Connect this space between_

_Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies_

_Across this new divide"_

_-Linkin Park, "New Divide"  
_

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**Well, that's it. The first book is over. I know this is a shocker, but I got the whole story planned out in my mind. Please bear with me as the next book commences. I will be gone for the next two weeks come this Tuesday, so don't expect any more to come. But I would love to hear from you and I will get back to your questions as soon as I can! Have a fun summer!**

**And stay tuned for FireDancers: Flickering Spark**

**Coming in late June 2013**

**Sincerely, Snowprincess Kittykolorz (=^.^=)~  
**


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